Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Grown-up

WAS it for this I uttered prayers,
And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs,
That now, domestic as a plate,
I should retire at half-past eight? 

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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