To S. M.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

If he should lie a-dying


I am not willing you should go
Into the earth, where Helen went;
She is awake by now, I know.
Where Cleopatra’s anklets rust
You will not lie with my consent;
And Sappho is a roving dust;
Cressid could love again; Dido,
Rotted in state, is restless still;
You leave me much against my will.

Next 10 Poems

• Edna St. Vincent Millay : To The Not Impossible Him
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : Travel
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : We Talk Of Taxes, And I Call You Friend
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : Weeds
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : When I Too Long Have Looked Upon Your Face
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : When The Year Grows Old
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : Wild Swans
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : Witch-wife
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : Wraith
• Joaquin Miller : At The Grave Of Walker

Previous 10 Poems

• Edna St. Vincent Millay : To Kathleen
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : To A Poet That Died Young
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : Time Does Not Bring Relief; You All Have Lied
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : Thursday
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : Three Songs Of Shattering
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : Thou Art Not Lovelier Than Lilacs,-no
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : The Unexplorer
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : The Suicide
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : The Singing-woman From The Wood's Edge
• Edna St. Vincent Millay : The Shroud