Edna St. Vincent Millay
Published in Poem Of The Day
So make the most of this, your little day,
Your little month, your little half a year
Ere I forget, or die, or move away,
And we are done forever; by and by
I shall forget you, as I said, but now,
If you entreat me with your loveliest lie
I will protest you with my favorite vow.
I would indeed that love were longer-lived,
And vows were not so brittle as they are,
But so it is, and nature has contrived
To struggle on without a break thus far,-
Whether or not we find what we are seeking
Is idle, biologically speaking.
About this poem
About Edna St. Vincent Millay
Poet and playwright Edna St. Vincent Millay was born in Rockland, Maine, on Feb. 22, 1892. Her collections of verse include "The Ballad of the Harp-Weaver" (1922), for which she was awarded the Pulitzer Prize, and "Make Bright the Arrows" (1940). She died on Oct. 19, 1950.
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This poem is in the public domain. Distributed by King Features Syndicate
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