Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Edna St. Vincent Millay - Only For Hardcore Poetry Lovers....

I fell head over heels in love with Edna St. Vincent Millay as a young teen.  So hard was my fall that I memorized the two poems below the summer I discovered her poetry.  Books and poetry were my lifeline then, just as they still are now.  (I also memorized "The Raven" by Poe that same summer.  Would to God I still had half of those brain cells....)  Yes, bloggers, like I said, hardcore. 

The biography, "Savage Beauty" by Nancy Milford is an amazing, enlightening, disturbing, fabulous book.  It knocked Ms. Millay slap off that pedestal I'd had her on for over 30 years.  But, lordy, what an amazing, gossipy, meaty book about one of the greatest poets who ever lived!  I have two copies of the book:  one hardcover, pristeen copy and one paperback copy that is dog-eared, hilighted and worn.  It's that good.  Hell, you don't even have to LIKE poetry, to enjoy this biography. 

Anyway, I couldn't let National Poetry Month pass without sharing two of my favorite poems by one of my favorite poets.  Of course, every month is poetry month around here.  (Tee-Hee...) I beg you to take the time to read the whole of 'Renescence'.  You will not be disappointed. She wrote it when she was 19 year old, which blew my mind then, and still does now. 

Happy reading!


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God's World
By Edna St. Vincent Millay

O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
Thy mists, that roll and rise!

Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!

Long have I known a glory in it all,
But never knew I this;
Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart, -- Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year;
My soul is all but out of me, -- let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

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By Edna St. Vincent Millay

All I could see from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood;
I turned and looked another way,
And saw three islands in a bay.
So with my eyes I traced the line
Of the horizon, thin and fine,
Straight around till I was come
Back to where I'd started from;
And all I saw from where I stood
Was three long mountains and a wood.

Over these things I could not see;
These were the things that bounded me;
And I could touch them with my hand,
Almost, I thought, from where I stand.
And all at once things seemed so small
My breath came short, and scarce at all.

But, sure, the sky is big, I said;
Miles and miles above my head;
So here upon my back I'll lie
And look my fill into the sky.

And so I looked, and, after all,
The sky was not so very tall.
The sky, I said, must somewhere stop,
And -- sure enough! -- I see the top!
The sky, I thought, is not so grand;
I 'most could touch it with my hand!
And reaching up my hand to try,
I screamed to feel it touch the sky.

I screamed, and -- lo! -- Infinity
Came down and settled over me;
Forced back my scream into my chest,
Bent back my arm upon my breast,
And, pressing of the Undefined
The definition on my mind,
Held up before my eyes a glass
Through which my shrinking sight did pass
Until it seemed I must behold
Immensity made manifold;
Whispered to me a word whose sound
Deafened the air for worlds around,
And brought unmuffled to my ears
The gossiping of friendly spheres,
The creaking of the tented sky,
The ticking of Eternity.

I saw and heard, and knew at last
The How and Why of all things, past,
And present, and forevermore.
The Universe, cleft to the core,
Lay open to my probing sense
That, sick'ning, I would fain pluck thence
But could not, -- nay! But needs must suck
At the great wound, and could not pluck
My lips away till I had drawn
All venom out. -- Ah, fearful pawn!
For my omniscience paid I toll
In infinite remorse of soul.

All sin was of my sinning, all
Atoning mine, and mine the gall
Of all regret. Mine was the weight
Of every brooded wrong, the hate
That stood behind each envious thrust,
Mine every greed, mine every lust.

And all the while for every grief,
Each suffering, I craved relief
With individual desire, --
Craved all in vain! And felt fierce fire
About a thousand people crawl;

Perished with each, -- then mourned for all!

A man was starving in Capri;
He moved his eyes and looked at me;
I felt his gaze, I heard his moan,
And knew his hunger as my own.

I saw at sea a great fog bank
Between two ships that struck and sank;
A thousand screams the heavens smote;
And every scream tore through my throat.

No hurt I did not feel, no death
That was not mine; mine each last breath
That, crying, met an answering cry
From the compassion that was I.
All suffering mine, and mine its rod;
Mine, pity like the pity of God.

Ah, awful weight! Infinity
Pressed down upon the finite Me!
My anguished spirit, like a bird,
Beating against my lips I heard;
Yet lay the weight so close about
There was no room for it without.
And so beneath the weight lay I
And suffered death, but could not die.

Long had I lain thus, craving death,
When quietly the earth beneath
Gave way, and inch by inch, so great
At last had grown the crushing weight,
Into the earth I sank till I
Full six feet under ground did lie,
And sank no more, -- there is no weight
Can follow here, however great.
From off my breast I felt it roll,
And as it went my tortured soul
Burst forth and fled in such a gust
That all about me swirled the dust.

Deep in the earth I rested now;
Cool is its hand upon the brow
And soft its breast beneath the head
Of one who is so gladly dead.
And all at once, and over all
The pitying rain began to fall;
I lay and heard each pattering hoof
Upon my lowly, thatched roof,

And seemed to love the sound far more
Than ever I had done before.
For rain it hath a friendly sound
To one who's six feet underground;
And scarce the friendly voice or face:
A grave is such a quiet place.

The rain, I said, is kind to come
And speak to me in my new home.
I would I were alive again
To kiss the fingers of the rain,
To drink into my eyes the shine
Of every slanting silver line,
To catch the freshened, fragrant breeze
From drenched and dripping apple-trees.
For soon the shower will be done,
And then the broad face of the sun
Will laugh above the rain-soaked earth
Until the world with answering mirth
Shakes joyously, and each round drop
Rolls, twinkling, from its grass-blade top.

How can I bear it; buried here,
While overhead the sky grows clear
And blue again after the storm?
O, multi-colored, multiform,
Beloved beauty over me,
That I shall never, never see
Again! Spring-silver, autumn-gold,
That I shall never more behold!
Sleeping your myriad magics through,
Close-sepulchred away from you!

O God, I cried, give me new birth,
And put me back upon the earth!
Upset each cloud's gigantic gourd
And let the heavy rain, down-poured
In one big torrent, set me free,
Washing my grave away from me!

I ceased; and through the breathless hush
That answered me, the far-off rush
Of herald wings came whispering
Like music down the vibrant string
Of my ascending prayer, and -- crash!
Before the wild wind's whistling lash
The startled storm-clouds reared on high
And plunged in terror down the sky,
And the big rain in one black wave
Fell from the sky and struck my grave.

I know not how such things can be;
I only know there came to me
A fragrance such as never clings
To aught save happy living things;
A sound as of some joyous elf
Singing sweet songs to please himself,
And, through and over everything,
A sense of glad awakening.

The grass, a-tiptoe at my ear,
Whispering to me I could hear;
I felt the rain's cool finger-tips
Brushed tenderly across my lips,
Laid gently on my sealed sight,
And all at once the heavy night
Fell from my eyes and I could see, --
A drenched and dripping apple-tree,
A last long line of silver rain,
A sky grown clear and blue again.
And as I looked a quickening gust
Of wind blew up to me and thrust
Into my face a miracle
Of orchard-breath, and with the smell, --
I know not how such things can be! --
I breathed my soul back into me.

Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I
And hailed the earth with such a cry
As is not heard save from a man
Who has been dead, and lives again.
About the trees my arms I wound;
Like one gone mad I hugged the ground;
I raised my quivering arms on high;
I laughed and laughed into the sky;

Till at my throat a strangling sob
Caught fiercely, and a great heart-throb
Sent instant tears into my eyes;
O God, I cried, no dark disguise
Can e'er hereafter hide from me
Thy radiant identity!
Thou canst not move across the grass
But my quick eyes will see Thee pass,
Nor speak, however silently,
But my hushed voice will answer Thee.
I know the path that tells Thy way
Through the cool eve of every day;
God, I can push the grass apart
And lay my finger on Thy heart!

The world stands out on either side
No wider than the heart is wide;
Above the world is stretched the sky, --
No higher than the soul is high.
The heart can push the sea and land
Farther away on either hand;
The soul can split the sky in two,
And let the face of God shine through.
But East and West will pinch the heart
That can not keep them pushed apart;
And he whose soul is flat -- the sky
Will cave in on him by and by.

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Snowbrush said...

Hey, I like her too, but then you already knew that.

Kelly said...

I didn't know much about Edna St. Vincent Millay's life until I read a biography at another blog not long ago. She's fascinating!!!

The second was trying for my attention span....amazing that she wrote it when she was so young!

I loved the first. She writes with such passion!

Janelle Goodwin said...

Marion, I've never been much of a poetry reader, more like novel reader. But I did read Savage Beauty and own the hardback. Interesting book to say the least!

Wine and Words said...

You memorized that!!!! Wow. I can barely recite my phone number! Even as a MUCH younger woman I had trouble with memory. Bravo Sista! Your love affair with poetry has been long and nurtured. I am new in it...the first book of poetry I ever purchased was at your suggestion :)

Love you my Marion...

Sue said...

Wow, the second one took me on quite a journey. At times, the trip seemed a bit long, but I'm pretty happy with where I ended up.



Phoenix said...

Beautiful. Both of those poems... thank you so much for sharing, Marion. And for celebrating poetry year-round instead of one month a year :)

::love and hugs::

Marion said...

Snow, my friend, I do recall you telling me that. I hope you're feeling better. Blessings!

Kelly, you're such a good sport! I appreciate you, I really do. Blessings!

Janelle, it was an amazing biography, wasn't it? Blessings!

Annie, I wish I still had that amazing memory. I find myself recalling snippets of the strangest things. I can quote entire chapters of the Bible, mostly from Psalms. I guess memorizing words I love is a kind of therapy. I'm still working on "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T. S. Eliot. I put the poem on note cards and carry them around with me and when I'm somewhere I have to wait, I practice. And (don't tell anyone this, okay) I have that Eliot poem on my little MP3 player with the author reading it. I warned y'all I was hardcore! LOL! Love & Blessings back to you, my friend. xoxo

Sue, it is a long poem, but I love the flow of it. Blessings!

Phoenix, thank you. I do hope you're feeling better and that the sun is shining inside your head. :-) Love & Blessings, my enlightened friend.

Jos said...

I had to ... just had to come back and read this again. It is so whole. I can't think how else to describe it. I love the length and breadth of it. Such a satisfying read. I shall have to get myself some of her work. Thanks Marion. xx Jos

Terresa said...

I adore how you say, "Of course, every month is poetry month around here."

I feel the same.

And the intimacy with which
Edna St. Vincent Millay addresses God is striking:

God, I can push the grass apart
And lay my finger on Thy heart!