Oh, oh, you will be i m really sorry for the word!Give earlier my book and also take my kiss instead.Was that my enemy or my friend i heard,“What a big book for such a little head!”Come, i will display you now my newest hat,And you may watch me purse mine mouth and also prink!Oh, ns shall love you still, and all of that.I never again shall tell girlfriend what ns think.I shall it is in sweet and crafty, soft and sly;You will not capture me reading any more:I shall be dubbed a mam to sample by;And some day when you knock and push the door,Some sane day, not as well bright and also not too stormy,I shall be gone, and you may whistle for me.
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Edna St. Vincent Millay to be born in Rockland, Maine, ~ above February 22, 1892. A poet and playwright poetry collections encompass The Ballad that the Harp-Weaver (Flying Cloud Press, 1922), winner that the Pulitzer Prize, and also Renascence and also Other Poems (Harper, 1917) She passed away on October 18, 1950, in Austerlitz, brand-new York.
She is neither pink nor pale, and she never will be every mine;She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, and her mouth ~ above a valentine.She has much more hair 보다 she needs; In the sun "tis a woe come me!And she voice is a wire of colored beads, Or procedures leading right into the sea.She loves me all the she can, and also her means to my methods resign; but she was not made for any type of man, and she never will be every mine.
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"Curse thee, Life, I will certainly live through thee no more!Thou besides mocked me, starved me, win my body sore!And every for a pledge that was no pledged by me,I have kissed thy crust and eaten sparinglyThat I might eat again, and also met thy sneersWith deprecations, and thy blows with tears,—Aye, from her glutted lash, glad, crawled away,As if spent passion to be a holiday!And now I go. Nor threat, nor basic vowOf tardy kindness can avail thee nowWith me, whence fear and faith alike space flown;Lonely ns came, and also I depart alone,And know not whereby nor unto whom i go;But the thou canst no follow me i know."Thus i to Life, and also ceased; yet through mine brainMy assumed ran still, till I spake again:"Ah, but I go no as i came,—no traceIs mine to bear away of the old graceI brought! I have actually been heated in thy fires,Bent by her hands, fashioned to thy desires,Thy note is on me! ns am not the sameNor ever much more shall be, as as soon as I came.Ashes am ns of all that as soon as I seemed.In me all"s sunk the leapt, and all the dreamedIs wakeful for alarm,—oh, dead to thee,For the ill adjust that thou hast wrought in me,Who laugh no much more nor elevator my neck to singAh, Life, i would have actually been a satisfied thingTo have around the residence when ns was grownIf you hadst left my tiny joys alone!I inquiry of thee no favor conserve this one:That thou wouldst leave me playing in the sun!And this she didst deny, calling mine nameInsistently, until I rose and came.I saw the sunlight no more.—It were not wellSo long on these unpleasant think to dwell,Need ns arise to-morrow and renewAgain mine hated tasks, however I am throughWith every things conserve my thoughts and also this one night,So that in reality I seem already quiteFree,and far from thee,—I feel no hasteAnd no reluctance come depart; ns tasteMerely, through thoughtful mien, one unknown draught,That in a little while ns shall have quaffed."Thus ns to Life, and also ceased, and slightly smiled,Looking at nothing; and also my thin desires filedBefore me one by one till as soon as againI set new words unto an old refrain:"Treasures you hast that never have actually been mine!Warm lights in many a secret chamber shineOf her gaunt house, and also gusts that song have blownLike blossoms out to me that satellite alone!And I have actually waited well because that thee come showIf any kind of share were mine,—and currently I goNothing ns leave, and if i naught attainI shall yet come right into mine very own again!"Thus i to Life, and ceased, and spake no more,But turning, straightway, sought a particular doorIn the behind wall. Hefty it was, and also lowAnd dark,—a means by which none e"er would certainly goThat other exit had, and also never knockWas heard thereat,—bearing a curious lockSome chance had displayed me fashioned faultily,Whereof Life organized content the useless key,And great coarse hinges, thick and rough with rust,Whose sudden voice across a quiet must,I knew, it is in harsh and horrible to hear,—A weird door, ugly prefer a dwarf.—So nearI come I feeling upon my feet the chillOf acid wind creeping across the sill.So stand longtime, till end me at lastCame weariness, and also all things other passedTo do it room; the quiet night drifted deepLike snow about me, and also I longed because that sleep.But, suddenly, noting the morning hour,Bayed the deep-throated bell in ~ the tower!Startled, I raised my head,—and v a shoutLaid organize upon the latch,—and to be without.* * * *Ah, long-forgotten, well-remembered road, leading me ago unto my old abode, my father"s house! over there in the night i came, and found lock feasting, and all things the exact same As they had been before. A splendour hung top top the walls, and such sweet songs to be sung As, echoing the end of really long ago, Had referred to as me indigenous the house of Life, ns know.So fair your raiment shone ns looked in shameOn the i do not know garb in which ns came;Then straightway at my hesitancy mocked:"It is my father"s house!" ns said and knocked;And the door opened. To the glowing crowdTattered and also dark ns entered, favor a cloud,Seeing no face yet his; come him i crept,And "Father!" ns cried, and clasped his knees, and wept.* * * *Ah, days of pleasure that followed! every aloneI wandered through the house. My own, mine own,My own to touch, my own to taste and smell,All I had actually lacked so long and loved therefore well!None shook me the end of sleep, no one hushed mine song,Nor referred to as me in native the sunshine all day long.I recognize not once the wonder pertained to meOf what mine father"s organization might be,And whither fared and on what errands bentThe tall and gracious messengers he sent.Yet at some point with no song from dawn it rotates nightWondering, ns sat, and watched them out of sight.And the next day ns called; and also on the thirdAsked lock if I can go,—but no one heard.Then, sick with longing, I occurred at lastAnd went unto my father,—in that vastChamber wherein he because that so many yearsHas sat, surrounded by his charts and also spheres."Father," ns said, "Father, i cannot playThe harp the thou didst provide me, and all dayI sit in idleness, while to and also froAbout me your serene, tomb servants go;And i am weary of my lonely ease.Better a perilous trip overseasAway native thee, than this, the life i lead,To sit every day in the sunshine like a weedThat grows to naught,—I love thee more than theyWho serve thee most; yet serve thee in no way.Father, i beg of thee a little taskTo dignify mine days,—"tis all i askForever, but forever, this denied,I perish." "Child," my father"s voice replied,"All points thy an elaborate hath wanted of meThou aside from that received. I have prepared because that theeWithin my house a spacious chamber, whereAre fragile things come handle and also to wear,And all these things space thine. Dost thou love song?My minstrels shall to visit thee every day long.Or sigh because that flowers? my fairest gardens standOpen as areas to thee top top every hand.And all thy days this word shall hold the same:No pleasure shalt thou absence that you shalt name.But as for tasks—" he smiled, and shook his head;"Thou hadst thy task, and laidst that by," he said.