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Edna St. Vincent Millay (Эдна Сент-Винсент Миллей)


* * *


Pity me not because the light of day
At close of day no longer walks the sky;
Pity me not for beauties passed away
From field and thicket as the the year goes by;
Pity me not the waning of the moon,
Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea,
Nor that a man’s desire is hushed so soon,
And you no longer look with love on me.
This have I known always: Love is no more
Than the wide blossom which the wind assails,
Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore,
Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales:
Pity me that the heart is slow to learn
What the swift mind beholds at ever turn.



Edna St. Vincent Millay's other poems:
  1. Weeds
  2. The Plaid Dress
  3. The Merry Maid
  4. The Shroud
  5. Scrub


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