Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

* * *

IF I should learn, in some quite casual way,  
    That you were gone, not to return again—  
Read from the back-page of a paper, say,  
    Held by a neighbor in a subway train,  
How at the corner of this avenue         
    And such a street (so are the papers filled)  
A hurrying man—who happened to be you—  
    At noon to-day had happened to be killed,  
I should not cry aloud—I could not cry  
    Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place—         
I should but watch the station lights rush by  
    With a more careful interest on my face,  
Or raise my eyes and read with greater care  
Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.

1. There Was upon the Sill
2. Gazing upon Him Now
3. She Had a Horror
4. The Doctor Asked Her
5. So She Came Back

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