Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892 - 1950) is the poet all of us used to read when we were teenagers, the way a later generation of young women were thrilled by Sylvia Plath.
The outspoken, unconventionally feminist and probably bisexual Millay was the most popular poet in America, the epitome of the love poet and free spirit. Here are two of her sonnets in contrasting moods—one of them languidly regretting having had too many love affairs, the other taking on the voice of a wife whose husband has just made a big mistake. This is a perfect “the moment she knew” poem. The problem is not that the husband is unfaithful—the problem is he’s a jerk.
WHAT LIPS MY LIPS HAVE KISSED
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts to-night, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply;
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain,
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone;
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
OH, OH, YOU WILL BE SORRY
Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that word!
Give back my book and take my kiss instead.
Was it my enemy or my friend I heard,
"What a big book for such a little head!"
Come, I will show you now my newest hat,
And you may watch me purse my mouth and prink!
Oh, I shall love you still, and all of that.
I never again shall tell you what I think.
I shall be sweet and crafty, soft and sly;
You will not catch me reading any more:
I shall be called a wife to pattern by;
And some day when you knock and push the door,
Some sane day, not too bright and not too stormy,
I shall be gone, and you may whistle for me.
She is one of my favorite poets. I love the poems you referenced, but of course they're all good! It was Renascence that changed my life when I was a child and read it while sitting outside under a tree.
Besides the almost unreal beauty of Renascence, one of my favorite ESVM poems is:
Thou famished grave, I will not fill thee yet,
Roar though thou dost, I am too happy here;
Gnaw thine own sides, fast on; I have no fear
Of thy dark project, but my heart is set
On living -- I have heroes to beget
Before I die; I will not come anear
Thy dismal jaws for many a splendid year;
Till I be old, I aim not to be eat.
I cannot starve thee out: I am thy prey
And thou shalt have me; but I dare defend
That I can stave thee off; and I dare say,
What with the life I lead, the force I spend,
I'll be but bones and jewels on that day,
And leave thee hungry even in the end.
My favourite poem by Millay is Memory of Cape Cod read by Caroline Kennedy at her Mother's funeral.
Glad you chose Millay!
Best from another poet,
Patricia
Edna St Vincent Millay, gone but not forgotten; as is St Vincents Hospital in Greenwich Village.