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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374642" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sonnets (1923)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">VIII8.<br> Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that word! <br>.<br> Give back my book and take my kiss instead. <br>.<br> Was it my enemy or my friend I heard, <br>.<br> &quot;What a big book for such a little head!&quot; <br>.<br> Come, I will show you now my newest hat, <br>.<br> And you may watch me purse my mouth and prink! <br>.<br> Oh, I shall love you still, and all of that. <br>.<br> I never again shall tell you what I think. <br>.<br> I shall be sweet and crafty, soft and sly; <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> You will not catch me reading any more: <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I shall be called a wife to pattern by; <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And some day when you knock and push the door, <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Some sane day, not too bright and not too stormy, <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I shall be gone, and you may whistle for me. IX9.<br> Here is a wound that never will heal, I know, <br>.<br> Being wrought not of a dearness and a death, <br>.<br> But of a love turned ashes and the breath <br>.<br> Gone out of beauty; never again will grow <br>.<br> The grass on that scarred acre, though I sow <br>.<br> Young seed there yearly and the sky bequeath <br>.<br> Its friendly weathers down, far underneath <br>.<br> Shall be such bitterness of an old woe. <br>.<br> That April should be shattered by a gust, <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> That August should be levelled by a rain, <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I can endure, and that the lifted dust <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Of man should settle to the earth again; <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But that a dream can die, will be a thrust <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Between my ribs forever of hot pain. XVIII18.<br> I, being born a woman and distressed <br>.<br> By all the needs and notions of my kind, <br>.<br> Am urged by your propinquity to find <br>.<br> Your person fair, and feel a certain zest <br>.<br> To bear your body's weight upon my breast: <br>.<br> So subtly is the fume of life designed, <br>.<br> To clarify the pulse and cloud the mind, <br>.<br> And leave me once again undone, possessed. <br>.<br> Think not for this, however, the poor treason <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Of my stout blood against my staggering brain, <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I shall remember you with love, or season <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> My scorn with pity, -- let me make it plain: <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I find this frenzy insufficient reason <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> For conversation when we meet again. XIX19.<br> What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, <br>.<br> I have forgotten, and what arms have lain <br>.<br> Under my head till morning; but the rain <br>.<br> Is full of ghosts to-night, that tap and sigh <br>.<br> Upon the glass and listen for reply, <br>.<br> And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain <br>.<br> For unremembered lads that not again <br>.<br> Will turn to me at midnight with a cry. <br>.<br> Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree, <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Yet knows its boughs more silent than before: <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I cannot say what loves have come and gone, <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I only know that summer sang in me <br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> A little while, that in me sings no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Edna+St.+Vincent+Millay">Edna St. Vincent Millay</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=374642" data-title="Sonnets (1923) de Edna St. Vincent Millay" data-description="VIII8.
 Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that word! 
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 Give back my book and take my kiss instead. 
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 Was it my enemy or my friend I heard, 
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 &quot;What a big book for such a little head!&quot; 
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 Come, I will show you now my newest hat, 
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 And..."></div>
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