SECOND APRIL
BY
EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY
TO
MY BELOVED FRIEND
CAROLINE B. DOW
CONTENTS
SPRING INLAND
CITY TREES TO A POET THAT DIED YOUNG
THE BLUE-FLAG IN THE BOG WRAITH
JOURNEY EBB
EEL-GRASS ELAINE
ELEGY BEFORE DEATH BURIAL
THE BEAN-STALK MARIPOSA
WEEDS THE LITTLE HILL
PASSER MORTUUS EST DOUBT NO MORE THAT OBERON
PASTORAL LAMENT
ASSAULT EXILED
TRAVEL THE DEATH OF AUTUMN
LOW-TIDE ODE TO SILENCE
SONG OF A SECOND APRIL MEMORIAL TO D. C.
ROSEMARY UNNAMED SONNETS I-XII
THE POET AND HIS BOOK WILD SWANS
ALMS
SECOND APRIL
SPRING
To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots,
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
CITY TREES
The trees along this city street,
Save for the traffic and the trains,
Would make a sound as thin and sweet
As trees in country lanes.
And people standing in their shade
Out of a shower, undoubtedly
Would hear such music as is made
Upon a country tree.
Oh, little leaves that are so dumb
Against the shrieking city air,
I watch you when the wind has come,- I know what sound is there.
THE BLUE-FLAG IN THE BOG
God had called us, and we came;
Our loved Earth to ashes left;
...
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