Dirge by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Boys and girls that held her dear,
Do your weeping now;
All you loved of her lies here.

Brought to earth the arrogant brow,
And the withering tongue
Chastened; do your weeping now.

Sing whatever songs are sung,
Wind whatever wreath,
For a playmate perished young,

For a spirit spent in death.
Boys and girls that held her dear,
All you loved of her lies here.

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Other poems by 'Edna St. Vincent Millay'

I Think I Should Have Loved You

Spring

Departure

God's World

Alms

I Shall Forget You Presently

Sweet Love, Sweet Thorn, When Lightly To My Heart

Sonnet (Women Have Loved Before As I Love Now)

The Death Of Autumn

Night Is My Sister, And How Deep In Love

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