Some Love Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Love, but also cynicism, sorrow, and a woman in charge of herself

Let's take our minds to a different place with some love poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay in today’s edition of Literary Ladies Lite. Not that they're breezy by any means. She was very complicated and broke the hearts of men and women alike.

Though Vincent (1892 – 1950) as she liked to be called, wasn't considered a confessional poet, her prolific love life was often reflected in her lines, sometimes obliquely, other times directly. Some of her love poems hint at cynicism, disappointment, and sorrow; others still reflect a women in full charge of her sexuality.

It has been argued that tales of her love life have eclipsed her reputation as a poet — and that this should be corrected, as she was a brilliant poet. Her reputation began waning even before her untimely death. Why this is isn’t exactly clear, other than because modernist poetry was coming to the fore.

I’m no poetry expert, but I think this is unjust! She’s not studied much in the classroom, but she still has devoted fans. But what is she best remembered for? This:

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends —
It gives a lovely light!

In 1923, Vincent won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry for her fourth volume of poems, The Ballad of the Harp-Weaver. She was only the second person to receive a Pulitzer for poetry, and the first woman to win this prize. The poems in this sampling are from her early collections that are in the public domain. Enjoy!

Learn more about Edna St. Vincent Millay.

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THE DREAM

Love, if I weep it will not matter,
And if you laugh I shall not care;
Foolish am I to think about it,
But it is good to feel you there.

Love, in my sleep I dreamed of waking,—
White and awful the moonlight reached
Over the floor, and somewhere, somewhere,
There was a shutter loose,—it screeched!

Swung in the wind,—and no wind blowing!—
I was afraid, and turned to you,
Put out my hand to you for comfort,—
And you were gone! Cold, cold as dew,

Under my hand the moonlight lay!
Love, if you laugh I shall not care,
But if I weep it will not matter,—
Ah, it is good to feel you there!

(From Renascence and other Poems, 1917)

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INDIFFERENCE

I said,—for Love was laggard, O, Love was slow to come,—
“I’ll hear his step and know his step when I am warm in bed;
But I’ll never leave my pillow, though there be some
As would let him in—and take him in with tears!” I said.
I lay,—for Love was laggard, O, he came not until dawn,—
I lay and listened for his step and could not get to sleep;
And he found me at my window with my big cloak on,
All sorry with the tears some folks might weep!

(From Renascence and other Poems, 1917)