Heap not on this mound
Roses that she loved so well;
Why bewilder her with roses,
That she cannot see or smell?
She is happy where she lies
With the dust upon her eyes.

(C) Edna St. Vincent Millay
01/01/2000


Best Poems of Edna St. Vincent Millay

• Lament
• If I Should Learn, In Some Quite Casual Way
• Kin To Sorrow
• Let You Not Say Of Me When I Am Old
• Into The Golden Vessel Of Great Song
• Journey
• Macdougal Street
• Interim
• Indifference
• Low-tide
• Mariposa
• Inland
• Apostrophe To Man
• Grown-up
• Bluebeard
• I Dreamed I Moved Among The Elysian Fields
• Portrait By A Neighbor
• Alms
• No Rose That In A Garden Ever Grew
• Midnight Oil
• Afternoon On A Hill