Search Poetry Here

What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why (Sonnet Xliii) - Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay Poetry

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning; but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain For unremembered lads that not ... Read More

Latest Urdu Poetry

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—

My heart is what it was before,
A house where people come and go;
But it is winter with your love,

(On reflecting that the world
is ready to go to war again)

Detestable race, continue to expunge

Oh, come, my lad, or go, my lad,
And love me if you like.
I shall not hear the door shut
Nor t

Cold wind of autumn, blowing loud
At dawn, a fortnight overdue,
Jostling the doors, and tearing th

Once from a big, big building,
When I was small, small,
The queer folk in the windows
Would smile

I

I had forgotten how the frogs must sound
After a year of silence, else I think
I should not s

Give away her gowns,
Give away her shoes;
She has no more use
For her fragrant gowns;
Take them

Being Young and Green, I said in love's despite:
Never in the world will I to living wight
Give ov

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it wil

I shall die, but
that is all that I shall do for Death.
I hear him leading his horse out of the s

XLI

I, being born a woman and distressed
By all the needs and notions of my kind,
Am urged by y

And do you think that love itself,
Living in such an ugly house,
Can prosper long?
We meet and pa

No, I will go alone.
I will come back when it's over.
Yes, of course I love you.
No, it will not

The trees along this city street,
Save for the traffic and the trains,
Would make a sound as thin

Why do you follow me?—
Any moment I can be
Nothing but a laurel-tree.

Any moment of the chase

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Und

I cannot but remember
When the year grows old --
October -- November --
How she disliked

I1.
Love, though for this you riddle me with darts,
.
And drag me at your chariot till I die, --

I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick

The courage that my mother had
Went with her, and is with her still:
Rock from New England quarr

Hard seeds of hate I planted
That should by now be grown,—
Rough stalks, and from thick stamens

Whereas at morning in a Jeweled Crown
I bit my fingers and was hard to please,
Having shook disast

Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike;
Eat I must, and sleep I will,—and would tha

This door you might not open, and you did;
So enter now, and see for what slight thing
You are b

God had called us, and we came;
Our loved Earth to ashes left;
Heaven was a neighbor's house,
Ope

She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tal

I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over.
And what did I see I had not seen before?
Onl

Ho, Giant! This is I!
I have built me a bean-stalk into your sky!
La,—but it's lovely, up so hig

I'll keep a little tavern
Below the high hill's crest,
Wherein all grey-eyed people
May set them

In the spring of the year, in the spring of the year,
I walked the road beside my dear.
The tree

Silver bark of beech, and sallow
Bark of yellow birch and yellow
Twig of willow.

Stripe of gree

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floa

It's little I care what path I take,
And where it leads it's little I care;
But out of this house,

When I too long have looked upon your face,
Wherein for me a brightness unobscured
Save by the m

When we are old and these rejoicing veins
Are frosty channels to a muted stream,
And out of all ou

Sorrow like a ceaseless rain
Beats upon my heart.
People twist and scream in pain,—
Dawn will f

Sweet love, sweet thorn, when lightly to my heart
I took your thrust, whereby I since am slain,
An

And you as well must die, belovèd dust,
And all your beauty stand you in no stead;
This flawles

Just a rainy day or two
In a windy tower,
That was all I had of you—
Saving half an hour.

Ma

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with

"Thin Rain, whom are you haunting,
That you haunt my door?"
—Surely it is not I she's wanting;

What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why (Sonnet Xliii) - Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay Poetry

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning; but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain For unremembered lads that not again Will turn to me at midnight with a cry. Thus in 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. Edna St. Vincent Millay... Read More