Mist In The Valley

These hills, to hurt me more,
That am hurt already enough,—
Having left the sea behind,
Having turned suddenly and left the shore
That I had loved beyond all words, even a song's words, to
convey,

And built me a house on upland acres,
Sweet with the pinxter, bright and rough
With the rusty blackbird long before the winter's done,
But smelling never of bayberry hot in the sun,
Nor ever loud with the pounding of the long white breakers,—

These hills, beneath the October moon,
Sit in the valley white with mist
Like islands in a quiet bay,

Jut out from shore into the mist,
Wooded with poplar dark as pine,
Like points of land into a quiet bay.

(Just in the way
The harbour met the bay)

Stricken too sore for tears,
I stand, remembering the Islands and the sea's lost sound—
Life at its best no longer than the sand-peep's cry,
And I two years, two years,
Tilling an upland ground!

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Comments (8)

Such a yearning to return to the seaside where her heart longs to be, was meant to be. Too many times the tides of life shift and take us from the course we would have preferred to take- yet if we open our hearts to the new path we may find ourselves facing an even better horizon. She's one of the easiest poets to read, to feel, to understand, to grow with.
Deep emotion and love of nature: the hills, sea, trees. Very much 'Tilling an upland ground'.
Simply fantastic style and expression has made the poem captivating. Thanks for sharing it here.
Lovely poem. The poetic images and play of words so wonderful in expressing the pain of leaving behind the home and it's haunting longing.
......that I had loved beyond all words- a beautiful line, reminds me of Poe's line - we loved with a love that was more than love
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