What Lips My Lips Have Kissed...
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
3 comments:
Beautiful!
Sad.
Too Sad.
Post a happy poem next.
Better yet, write one!!
xx, Carol
I have to agree with both of you: Beautiful & sad!
I was in a mood when I posted it. I think you're right, Carol, I should write my own!
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