Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Three Songs from the Lamp and the Bell

I

Oh, little rose tree, bloom!
Summer is nearly over.
The dahlias bleed, and the phlox is seed.
Nothing’s left of the clover.
And the path of the poppy no one knows.
I would blossom if I were a rose.

Summer, for all your guile,
Will brown in a week to Autumn,
And launched leaves throw a shadow below
Over the brook’s clear bottom,--
And the chariest bud the year can boast
Be brought to bloom by the chastening frost.

II

Beat me a crown of bluer metal;
   Fret it with stones of a foreign style:
The heart grows weary after a little
   Of what it loved for a little while.

Weave me a robe of richer fibre;
   Pattern its web with a rare device.
Give away to the child of a neighbor
   This gold gown I was glad in twice.

But buy me a singer to sing one song--
   Song about nothing--song about sheep--
Over and over, all day long;

III

Rain comes down
And hushes the town.
And where is the voice that I heard crying?

Snow settles
Over the nettles.
Where is the voice that I heard crying?

Sand at last
On the drifting mast.
And where is the voice that I heard crying?

Earth now
On the busy brow.
And where is the voice that I heard crying?

1. When You, That at This Moment
2. Sometimes When I Am Wearied
3. I See So Clearly Now My Similar Years
4. Lord Archer, Death
5. She Filled Her Arms with Wood

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