Friday, December 14

“I only know that summer sang in me a little while, that in me sings no more.” ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

 

“Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide!
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go,--so with his memory they brim!
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, 'There is no memory of him here!'
And so stand stricken, so remembering him!”

Woman Sitting on a Basket with Head in Hands - Vincent van Gogh

~ Edna St.Vincent Millay

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