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Sonnet CXXXIX by Edna St Vincent Millay

8/3/2011

2 Comments

 
Just discovered this poet...reportedly one of the greatest sonneteers. This poem was found by her side when she tripped and fell down a flight of stairs under the influence of alcohol. She broke her neck and died instantaneously.
Here is her “Sonnet CXXXIX”:

"I must not die of pity; I must live;

Grow strong. not sicken; eat, digest my food,

That it may build me, and in doing good

To blood and bone, broaden the sensitive

Fastidious pale perception: we contrive

Lean comfort for the starving, who intrude

Upon them with our pots of pity; brewed

From stronger meat must be the broth we give.

Blue, bright September day, with here and there

On the green hills a maple turning red,

And white clouds racing in the windy air!--

If I would help the weak, I must be fed

In wit and purpose, pour away despair

And rinse the cup, eat happiness like bread."

2 Comments
Ajit link
8/6/2011 09:51:21 pm

Thanks for a lovely post. Such ironic optimism, ain't it Ragu...?
But her life was like that. Nancy Mitford has written a memorable biography of this whirlwing of a poetess.
Have her 'Renaesance' in my collection.
~ajit

Reply
Christian link
9/28/2012 01:08:23 am

Many thanks for data

Reply



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    Dr Raguram

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