Edna St. Vincent Millay

"But, sure, the sky is big, I said; Miles and miles above my head; So here upon my back Ill lie And look my fill into the sky. And so I looked, and, after all, The sky was not so very tall. The sky, I said, must somewhere stop, And — sure enough! — I see the top! The sky, I thought, is not so grand; I most could touch it with my hand! And reaching up my hand to try, I screamed to feel it touch the sky."

"Its little I know whats in my heart, Whats in my mind its little I know, But theres that in me must up and start, And its little I care where my feet go."

"My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But, ah, my foes, and, oh, my friends — It gives a lovely light."

"Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand; Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!"

"Many a bards untimely death Lends unto his verses breath; Heres a song was never sung: Growing old is dying young."

"One thing theres no getting by— Ive been a wicked girl." said I; "But if I cant be sorry, why, I might as well be glad!"

"But you are mobile as the veering air, And all your charms more changeful than the tide, Wherefore to be inconstant is no care: I have but to continue at your side. So wanton, light and false, my love, are you, I am most faithless when I most am true."

"After all, my earstwhile dear, My no longer cherished, Need we say it was not love, Now that love is perished?"

"My heart is warm with friends I make, And better friends Ill not be knowing, Yet there isnt a train I wouldnt take, No matter where its going."

"Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare. Let all who prate of Beauty hold their peace, And lay them prone upon the earth and cease To ponder on themselves, the while they stare At nothing, intricately drawn nowhere."

"Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet knows its boughs more silent than before: I cannot say what loves have come and gone, I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more."

"Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain; Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink And rise and sink and rise and sink again; Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath, Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone; Yet many a man is making friends with death Even as I speak, for lack of love alone."