When The Year Grows Old
Edna St. Vincent Millay
I cannot but remember When the year grows old— October—November— How she disliked the cold! She used to watch the swallows Go down across the sky, And turn from the window With a little sharp sigh. And often when the brown leaves Were brittle on the ground, And the wind in the chimney Made a melancholy sound, She had a look about her That I wish I could forget— The look of a scared thing Sitting in a net! Oh, beautiful at nightfall The soft spitting snow! And beautiful the bare boughs Rubbing to and fro! But the roaring of the fire, And the warmth of fur, And the boiling of the kettle Were beautiful to her! I cannot but remember When the year grows old— October—November— How she disliked the cold!
Next 10 Poems
- Edna St. Vincent Millay : Wild Swans
- Edna St. Vincent Millay : Witch-wife
- Edna St. Vincent Millay : Wraith
- Joaquin Miller : At The Grave Of Walker
- Joaquin Miller : By The Pacific Ocean
- Joaquin Miller : Columbus
- Joaquin Miller : Crossing The Plains
- Joaquin Miller : Dead In The Sierras
- Joaquin Miller : In Southern California
- Joaquin Miller : Juanita
Previous 10 Poems
- Edna St. Vincent Millay : When I Too Long Have Looked Upon Your Face
- Edna St. Vincent Millay : Weeds
- Edna St. Vincent Millay : We Talk Of Taxes, And I Call You Friend
- Edna St. Vincent Millay : Travel
- Edna St. Vincent Millay : To The Not Impossible Him
- Edna St. Vincent Millay : To S. M.
- Edna St. Vincent Millay : To Kathleen
- Edna St. Vincent Millay : To A Poet That Died Young
- Edna St. Vincent Millay : Time Does Not Bring Relief; You All Have Lied
- Edna St. Vincent Millay : Thursday
