Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Scrub

If I grow bitterly,
Like a gnarled and stunted tree,
Bearing harshly of my youth
Puckered fruit that sears the mouth;
If I make of my drawn boughs
An Inshospitable House,
Out of which I nevery pry
Towards the water and the sky,
Under which I stand and hide
And hear the day go by outside;
It is that a wind to strong
Bent my back when I was young,
It is that I fear the rain
Lest it blister me again.

1. The Snow Storm
2. When We Are Old And These Rejoicing Veins
3. Intention to Escape from Him
4. To S. M.
5. Assault

Print

1485 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version