Thursday, October 17, 2013

A small basket of Edna St. Vincent Millay.


As if from a garden of the mind, here is a small basket of Edna St. Vincent Millay.






     "Fontaine, Je Ne Boirai Pas De Ton Eau!"  (from Huntsman, What Quarry?)

I know I might have lived in such a way
As to have suffered only pain:
Loving not man nor dog;
Not money, even; feeling
Toothache perhaps, but never more than an hour away 
From skill and novocaine;
Making no contacts, dealing with light through agents, drinking
   one cocktail, betting two dollars, wearing raincoats in the
   rain;
Betrayed at length by  no one but the fog
Whispering to the wing of the plane.

"Fountain," I have cried to that unbubbling well, "I will not
   drink of thy water!"  Yet I thirst
For a mouthful of--not to swallow, only to rinse my mouth in
   --peace.  And while the eyes of the past condemn,
The eyes of the present narrow into assignation.  And...
   worst...
The young are so old, they are born with their fingers crossed; 
   I shall get no help from them.

Huntsman, What Quarry?   (1939)

 
     "Sonnet #XI," from "Fatal Interview"

Not in a silver casket cool with pearls
Or rich with red corundum or with blue,
Locked, and the key withheld, as other girls
Have given their loves, I give my love to you;
Not in a lovers' knot, not in a ring
Worked in such fashion, and the legend plain--
Semper fidelis, where a secret spring
Kennels a drop of mischief for the brain:
Love in the open hand, no thing but that,
Ungemmed, unhidden, wishing not to hurt,
As one should bring you cowslips in a hat
Swung from the hand, or apples in her skirt,
I bring you, calling out as children do:
"Look what I have!--And these are all for you."

Fatal Interview    (1931)


Millay's upstate New York home, "Steepletop"
 I'm still reading, although I'm close to the end, Nancy Milford's biography of Edna St. V. Millay, Savage Beauty.  Besides the other great things I learned so far from reading this bio, Edna was a friend and lover of Llewelyn Powys; a fan of Conrad Aiken; a visitor to W. Somerset Maugham. I love the fine print.


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