Sweet love, sweet thorn, when lightly to my heart. I took your thrust, whereby I since am slain, And I lie disheveled in the grass apart, A sodden thing bedrenched by tears and rain.
Edna St. Vincent MillayOne things there's no getting by, I've been a wicked girl, Says I... But, if I can't be sorry I might as well be glad !
Edna St. Vincent MillayThe longest absence is less perilous to love than the terrible trials of incessant proximity.
Edna St. Vincent MillayAh, drink again This river that is the taker-away of pain, And the giver-back of beauty! In these cool waves What can be lost?-- Only the sorry cost Of the lovely thing, ah, never the thing itself! The level flood that laves The hot brow And the stiff shoulder Is at our temples now. Gone is the fever, But not into the river; Melted the frozen pride, But the tranquil tide Runs never the warmer for this, Never the colder. Immerse the dream. Drench the kiss. Dip the song in the stream.
Edna St. Vincent Millay