Edna St. Vincent Millay

My Heart, Being Hungry

My heart, being hungry, feeds on food
   The fat of heart despise.
Beauty where beauty never stood,
   And sweet where no sweet lies
I gather to my querulous need,
Having a growing heart to feed.

It may be, when my heart is dull,
   Having attained its girth,
I shall not find so beautiful
   The meagre shapes of earth,
Nor linger in the rain to mark
The smell of tansy through the dark.