Edna St. Vincent Millay Quotes

To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough.
Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950), U.S. poet. Spring (l. 1-2). . ; pseud. "Nancy Boyd" Collected Poems [Edna St. Vincent Millay]. Norma Millay, ed. (1956) Harper and Row.
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Life in itself Is nothing, An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, April Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950), U.S. poet. "Spring," lines 13-18 (1921).
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How strange a thing is death, bringing to his knees, bringing to his antlers/The buck in the snow.
Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950), U.S. poet. "The Buck in the Snow," lines 7-8 (1928).
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Clear and diminished like a scene cut in cameo The lighthouse, and the boat on the beach, and the two shapes Of the woman and the man;
Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950), U.S. poet. The Cameo (l. 8-11). . ; pseud. "Nancy Boyd" Collected Poems [Edna St. Vincent Millay]. Norma Millay, ed. (1956) Harper and Row.
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O troubled forms, O early love unfortunate and hard, Time has estranged you into a jewel cold and pure;
Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950), U.S. poet. The Cameo (l. 16-17). . ; pseud. "Nancy Boyd" Collected Poems [Edna St. Vincent Millay]. Norma Millay, ed. (1956) Harper and Row.
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Earth does not understand her child, Who from the loud gregarious town Returns, depleted and defiled, To the still woods, to fling him down.
Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950), U.S. poet. The Return (l. 1-4). . ; pseud. "Nancy Boyd" Collected Poems [Edna St. Vincent Millay]. Norma Millay, ed. (1956) Harper and Row.
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But she is early up and out, To trim the year or strip its bones;
Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950), U.S. poet. The Return (l. 9-10). . ; pseud. "Nancy Boyd" Collected Poems [Edna St. Vincent Millay]. Norma Millay, ed. (1956) Harper and Row.
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Set the foot down with distrust on the crust of the world—it is thin.
Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950), U.S. poet. "The Underground System," Huntsman, What Quarry? (1939).
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There was a road ran past our house Too lovely to explore. I asked my mother once—she said That if you followed where it led It brought you to the milk-man's door. (That's why I have not travelled more.)
Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950), U.S. poet. "The Unexplorer," entire poem (1920).
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I dread no more the first white in my hair, Or even age itself, the easy shoe, The cane, the wrinkled hands, the special chair: Time, doing this to me, may alter too My anguish, into something I can bear.
Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950), U.S. poet. "Time, That Renews the Tissues of This Frame."
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