The Three Sisters

Gone are the three, those sisters rare
   With wonder-lips and eyes ashine.
One was wise and one was fair,
   And one was mine.

Ye mourners, weave for the sleeping hair
   Of only two, your ivy vine.
For one was wise and one was fair,
   But one was mine.

by Arthur Davison Ficke

Comments (1)

Anyone smitten by Millay can relate; understandably She dedicated 'Conversation At Midnight' to this largely unrecognized, grand poet. I'm fairly sure that the Yale library has the complete works of Arthur Davison Ficke.... just great stuff if you've a passion for early to mid 20th cent poets whose raison d' etre is the experience and expression of a life's joys, both ultimately captivating and boundlessly expansive.