The Selected Poetry Of Edna St. Vincent Millay
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Language: English
Pages: 67
ISBN: 0375761233
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
"These are the poems that made Edna St. Vincent Millay's reputation when she was young. Saucy, insolent, flip, and defiant, her little verses sting the page," writes Nancy Milford in the Introduction to The Selected Poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay. As one of America's most beloved poets--and the winner of the Pulitzer Prize in 1923--Millay defined a generation with her intoxicating voice of liberation. Most remembered for her passionate, lyrical voice and mastery of the sonnet form, Millay explores love, death, and nature in her poetry while deftly employing allusions to the classical and the romantic. In 1917, at the age of twenty, she burst onto the New York literary scene with the publication of her first book of poetry, Renascence and Other Poems, which is included in this volume.
Edited by Millay biographer Nancy Milford, The Selected Poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay also includes the collections A Few Figs from Thistles and Second April, as well as "The Ballad of the Harp-Weaver" and eight of Millay's sonnets from the early twenties.
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bog! Little flames came wading out, Straining, straining towards its stem, But it was so blue and tall That it scorned to think of them! Red and thirsty were their tongues, As the tongues of wolves must be, But it was so blue and tall— Oh, I laughed, I cried, to see! All my heart became a tear, All my soul became a tower, Never loved I anything As I loved that tall blue flower! It was all the little boats That had ever sailed the sea, It was all the little books That had gone to
rescue me! “There—there, my blue-flag flower; Hush—hush—go to sleep; That is only God you hear, Counting up His folded sheep! Lullabye—lullabye— That is only God that calls, Missing me, seeking me, Ere the road to nothing falls! He will set His mighty feet Firmly on the sliding sand; Like a little frightened bird I will creep into His hand; I will tell Him all my grief, I will tell Him all my sin; He will give me half His robe For a cloak to wrap you in. Lullabye—lullabye—”
me. So wide shall be the garden-walk, The garden-seat so very wide, You needs must think—if you should think— The lily maid had died. Save that, a little way away, I’d watch you for a little while, To see you speak, the way you speak, And smile,—if you should smile. BURIAL Mine is a body that should die at sea! And have for a grave, instead of a grave Six feet deep and the length of me, All the water that is under the wave! And terrible fishes to seize my flesh, Such as a living
was sweet with shivering brass, Knowing well its altars ruined and the grass Grown up between the stones, yet from excess Of grief hard driven, or great loneliness, The worshiper returns, and those who pass Marvel him crying on a name that was,— So is it now with me in my distress. Your body was a temple to Delight; Cold are its ashes whence the breath is fled, Yet here one time your spirit was wont to move; Here might I hope to find you day or night, And here I come to look for you,
and the eight additional sonnets that are included here—are those for which she won the Pulitzer Prize in poetry. Ten extraordinary years. A first edition of Figs, bound in brightly colored paper wrappers of red, lemon yellow, orange, bright blue, purple and green was brought out by Frank Shay, and placed in the windows of his bookshop at 4 Christopher Street in Greenwich Village where it sold like pretty candies. Edmund Wilson, who became the most distinguished critic of their generation and
