Not for the flag Of any land because myself was born there Will I give up my life. But I will love that land where man is free, And that will I defend.

Lord I do fear / Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year.

A Poem from Edna St. Vincent Millay: Grown-up Was it for this I uttered prayers, And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs, That now, domestic as a plate, I should retire at half-past eight?

Euclid alone Has looked on Beauty bare. Fortunate they Who, though once only and then but far away, Have heard her massive sandal set on stone.

I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death; I am not on his pay-roll.

Listen, children: Your father is dead. From his old coats I'll make you little jackets; I'll make you little trousers From his old pants. There'll be in his pockets Things he used to put there, Keys and pennies Covered with tobacco; Dan shall have the pennies To save in his bank; Anne shall have the keys To make a pretty noise with. Life must go on, Though good men die; Anne, eat your breakfast; Dan, take your medicine; Life must go on; I forget just why.

Her lawn looks like a meadow, And if she mows the place She leaves the clover standing And the Queen Anne's Lace.