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Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay


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Whereas at morning in a Jeweled Crown
I bit my fingers and was hard to please,
Having shook disaster till the fruit fell down
I feel tonight more happy and at ease:
Feet running in the corridors, men quick 
Buckling their sword-belts, bumping down the stair,
Challenge, and rattling bridge-chain, and the click
Of hooves on pavementthis will clear the air.
Private this chamber as it has not been
In many a month of muffled hours; almost,
Lulled by the uproar, I could lie serene
And sleep, until alls won, until alls lost,
And the doors opened and the issue shown,
And I walk forth Hells Mistressor my own.



Edna St. Vincent Millay


Edna St. Vincent Millay's other poems:
  1. She is Overheard Singing
  2. MacDougal Street
  3. Three Songs of Shattering
  4. Thursday
  5. Pastoral


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