On this, the 123rd anniversary of Edna St. Vincent Millay’s birth, we bring you a Millay love poem—a breezy take on the inevitable end of the affair.

 

millay

Edna St. Vincent Millay in Mamaroneck, NY, 1914. Photo via Wikipedia.

Sonnet IV

By Edna St. Vincent Millay

I shall forget you presently, my dear,
So make the most of this, your little day,
Your little month, your little half a year,
Ere I forget, or die, or move away,
And we are done forever; by and by
I shall forget you, as I said, but now,
If you entreat me with your loveliest lie
I will protest you with my favorite vow.
I would indeed that love were longer-lived,
And vows were not so brittle as they are,
But so it is, and nature has contrived
To struggle on without a break thus far, —
Whether or not we find what we are seeking
Is idle, biologically speaking.

 

 

Join the conversation

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

  • ellen sue spicer-jacobson February 22, 2015 at 8:13 am

    Terrific sentiments that echo Dorothy Parker, my favorite (cynical) dead poet!

    Reply