by: Edna St. Vincent Millay
- O what purpose,
April, do you return again?
- Beauty is not enough.
- You can no longer quiet me with the redness
- Of little leaves opening stickily.
- I know what I know.
- The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
- The spikes of the crocus.
- The smell of the earth is good.
- It is apparent that there is no death.
- But what does that signify?
- Not only under ground are the brains of men
- Eaten by maggots.
- Life in itself
- Is nothing,
- An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
- It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
- Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
MORE POEMS BY EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY
"Spring" is reprinted
from Second April. New York: Mitchell Kennerley, 1921.