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By Edna St. Vincent Millay (Thanks Chana from The Curious Jew ... for sharing) Submitted by Jane Doe Date: 2012 Jun 30 Comment on this Work [[2012.06.30.06.48.6825]] |
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Time does not bring relief; you all have lied Who told me time would ease me of my pain! I miss him in the weeping of the rain; I want him at the shrinking of the tide; The old snows melt from every mountain-side, And last year’s leaves are smoke in every lane; But last year’s bitter loving must remain Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide! There are a hundred places where I fear To go,—so with his memory they brim! And entering with relief some quiet place Where never fell his foot or shone his face I say, “There is no memory of him here!” And so stand stricken, so remembering him! |