Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Siege

This I do, being mad:
Gather baubles about me,
Sit in a circle of toys, and all the time
Death beating the door in.

White jade and an orange pitcher,
   Hindu idol, Chinese god,--
Maybe next year, when I’m richer--
   Carved beads and a lotus pod....

And all this time
Death beating the door in.

1. I See So Clearly Now My Similar Years
2. To One Who Might Have Borne a Message
3. One Way There Was
4. She Had Forgotten
5. I Shall Go Back Again

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