Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Intention to Escape from Him

I think I will learn some beautiful language, useless for commercial
Purposes, work hard at that.
I think I will learn the Latin name of every songbird, not only in
America but wherever they sing.
(Shun meditation, though; invite the controversial:
Is the world flat? Do bats eat cats?) By digging hard I might
deflect that river, my mind, that uncontrollable thing,
Turgid and yellow, srong to overflow its banks in spring, 
carrying away bridges
A bed of pebbles now, through which there trickles one clear
narrow stream, following a course henceforth nefast—

Dig, dig; and if I come to ledges, blast.

1. The Snow Storm
2. To S. M.
3. Sweet Love, Sweet Thorn, When Lightly To My Heart
4. Fontaine, Je Ne Boirai Pas De Ton Eau!
5. The Wood Road

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