Tavern

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I’ll keep a little tavern
Below the high hill’s crest,
Wherein all grey-eyed people
May set them down and rest.

There shall be plates a-plenty,
And mugs to melt the chill
Of all the grey-eyed people
Who happen up the hill.

There sound will sleep the traveller,
And dream his journey’s end,
But I will rouse at midnight
The falling fire to tend.

Aye, ’tis a curious fancy?
But all the good I know
Was taught me out of two grey eyes
A long time ago.

Indifference

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I said, for Love was laggard, O, Love was slow to come,
“I’ll hear his step and know his step when I am warm in bed;
But I’ll never leave my pillow, though there be some
As would let him in and take him in with tears!” I said.
I lay,for Love was laggard, O, he came not until dawn,
I lay and listened for his step and could not get to sleep;
And he found me at my window with my big cloak on,
All sorry with the tears some folks might weep!

Witch-Wife by Edna St. Vincent Millay

She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
And her mouth on a valentine.
?

She has more hair than she needs;
In the sun ’tis a woe to me!
And her voice is a string of colored beads,
Or steps leading into the sea.
?

She loves me all that she can,
And her ways to my ways resign;
But she was not made for any man,
And she never will be all mine.

Kin to Sorrow

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Am I kin to Sorrow,
That so oft
Falls the knocker of my door?
Neither loud nor soft,
But as long accustomed,
Under Sorrow’s hand?
Marigolds around the step
And rosemary stand,
And then comes Sorrow?
And what does Sorrow care
For the rosemary
Or the marigolds there?
Am I kin to Sorrow?
Are we kin?
That so oft upon my door?
*Oh, come in*!

She Is Overheard Singing

Oh, Prue she has a patient man,
And Joan a gentle lover,
And Agatha’s Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,?
But my true love’s a rover!

Mig, her man’s as good as cheese
And honest as a briar,
Sue tells her love what he’s thinking of,?
But my dear lad’s a liar!

Oh, Sue and Prue and Agatha
Are thick with Mig and Joan!
They bite their threads and shake their heads
And gnaw my name like a bone;

And Prue says, “Mine’s a patient man,
As never snaps me up,”
And Agatha, “Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,
Could live content in a cup;”

Sue’s man’s mind is like good jell?
All one colour, and clear?
And Mig’s no call to think at all
What’s to come next year,

While Joan makes boast of a gentle lad,
That’s troubled with that and this;?
But they all would give the life they live
For a look from the man I kiss!

Cold he slants his eyes about,
And few enough’s his choice,?
Though he’d slip me clean for a nun, or a queen,
Or a beggar with knots in her voice,?

And Agatha will turn awake
While her good man sleeps sound,
And Mig and Sue and Joan and Prue
Will hear the clock strike round,

For Prue she has a patient man,
As asks not when or why,
And Mig and Sue have naught to do
But peep who’s passing by,

Joan is paired with a putterer
That bastes and tastes and salts,
And Agatha’s Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,?
But my true love is false!

She Is Overheard Singing

Oh, Prue she has a patient man,
And Joan a gentle lover,
And Agatha’s Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,?
But my true love’s a rover!

Mig, her man’s as good as cheese
And honest as a briar,
Sue tells her love what he’s thinking of,?
But my dear lad’s a liar!

Oh, Sue and Prue and Agatha
Are thick with Mig and Joan!
They bite their threads and shake their heads
And gnaw my name like a bone;

And Prue says, “Mine’s a patient man,
As never snaps me up,”
And Agatha, “Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,
Could live content in a cup;”

Sue’s man’s mind is like good jell?
All one colour, and clear?
And Mig’s no call to think at all
What’s to come next year,

While Joan makes boast of a gentle lad,
That’s troubled with that and this;?
But they all would give the life they live
For a look from the man I kiss!

Cold he slants his eyes about,
And few enough’s his choice,?
Though he’d slip me clean for a nun, or a queen,
Or a beggar with knots in her voice,?

And Agatha will turn awake
While her good man sleeps sound,
And Mig and Sue and Joan and Prue
Will hear the clock strike round,

For Prue she has a patient man,
As asks not when or why,
And Mig and Sue have naught to do
But peep who’s passing by,

Joan is paired with a putterer
That bastes and tastes and salts,
And Agatha’s Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,?
But my true love is false!

Ashes of Life

Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike;
Eat I must, and sleep I will,?and would that night were here!
But ah!?to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike!
Would that it were day again!?with twilight near!

Love has gone and left me and I don’t know what to do;
This or that or what you will is all the same to me;
But all the things that I begin I leave before I’m through,?
There’s little use in anything as far as I can see.

Love has gone and left me,?and the neighbors knock and borrow,
And life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse,?
And to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow
There’s this little street and this little house.

The Little Ghost by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I knew her for a little ghost
That in my garden walked;
The wall is high?higher than most?
And the green gate was locked.

And yet I did not think of that
Till after she was gone?
I knew her by the broad white hat,
All ruffled, she had on.

By the dear ruffles round her feet,
By her small hands that hung
In their lace mitts, austere and sweet,
Her gown’s white folds among.

I watched to see if she would stay,
What she would do?and oh!
She looked as if she liked the way
I let my garden grow!

She bent above my favourite mint
With conscious garden grace,
She smiled and smiled?there was no hint
Of sadness in her face.

She held her gown on either side
To let her slippers show,
And up the walk she went with pride,
The way great ladies go.

And where the wall is built in new
And is of ivy bare
She paused?then opened and passed through
A gate that once was there.