Friday, September 13, 2013

page 43

Sorrow like a ceaseless rain
Beats upon my heart.
People twist and scream in pain,
Dawn will find them still again;
This has neither wax nor wane,
Neither stop nor start.
People dress and go to town;
I sit in my chair.
All my thoughts are slow and brown:
Standing up or sitting down
Little matters, or what gown
Or, what shoes I wear.
Renascence and Other Poems (1917)
Edna St. Vincent Millay

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