SPRING

by: Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)

      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,
      April
      Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

"Spring" is reprinted from Second April. New York: Mitchell Kennerley, 1921.

MORE POEMS BY EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY

RELATED LINKS

BROWSE THE POETRY ARCHIVE:

[ A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | N | O | P | Q | R | S | T | U | V | W | X | Y | Z ]

Home · Poetry Store · Links · Email · © 2002 Poetry-Archive.com