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challenging
emotional
slow-paced
I’m not typically one for poetry, but I picked up this collection because Millay’s piece “First Fig” struck me. I wanted to explore more of her work to see if more of them would have a similar effect on me. Unfortunately this wasn’t the case.
I’m still glad I gave this collection a go, as some of the few pieces I could make sense of held a lot of emotion.
I can understand why Edna St. Vincent Millay is one of the greats of poetry; however, it doesn’t change the fact that I just don’t have the metaphorical brain power to appreciate it.
I’m still glad I gave this collection a go, as some of the few pieces I could make sense of held a lot of emotion.
I can understand why Edna St. Vincent Millay is one of the greats of poetry; however, it doesn’t change the fact that I just don’t have the metaphorical brain power to appreciate it.
Honestly... As much as I like older (especially sonnets and rhymed poetry) works, this collection of poems just didn't grab me. I could see what St. Vincent Millay was trying to achieve, but it didn't come through at it's best execution. I certainly see the appeal she holds for people, but I am not one of them. I don't think I'll be revisiting her work.
dark
emotional
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Beautifully emotional poetry full of love and loss, memory and truth, life and death. I first picked up this collection after reading of the similarities between Millay’s poetry and Taylor Swift’s lyrics, particularly from the album Red. I can definitely see it. There are stylistic similarities, like the way both Millay and Swift tell a story with very specific details to draw a scene from a precise moment in time. There are also a lot of shared themes - growing up, falling in and out of loved, the seemingly never-ending pain of a broken heart, looking back in time with fondness.
Here are some excerpts that particularly spoke to me:
Sorrow like a ceaseless rain
Beats upon my heart. — Sorrow
Grief of grief has drained me clean — Three Songs of Shattering
Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
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;
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. — II
And if I loved you Wednesday,
Well, what is that to you?
I do not love you Thursday—
So much is true. — Thursday
And what are you that, wanting you,
I should be kept awake
As many nights as there are days
With weeping for your sake? — the Philosopher
After all, my erstwhile dear,
My no longer cherished,
Need we say it was not love,
Now that love is perished? — Passer Mortuus Est
And I have loved you all too long and well. — I know I am but summer to your heart
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
adventurous
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
fast-paced
dark
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
slow-paced
I went searching for this collection after reading First Fig on a postcard.
"My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
It gives a lovely light!"
That poem moved me—I saw myself reflected in it—and I wanted to read more from this poet.
Reading poetry is always a challenge for me. I can never read it in one straight shot, and as a very literal person, I often struggle to grasp the deeper meanings. But Millay’s poetry felt incredibly relatable. I read in a biography that she was a bisexual woman with many lovers, and people say her poetry was written for them. However, after reading Suicide and Thursday (also from the Fig collection) and the rest of this book, I think she was often speaking to herself—to the different versions of herself that existed.
Many assume, though it can’t be proven, that she may have had mental health struggles. As someone with bipolar disorder, reading her poetry felt like listening to the different voices within myself—depression, anxiety, mania. I didn’t love every poem, but enough of them deeply moved me to make this book worth reading. I just wish a teacher had introduced me to Millay earlier, rather than me having to go on a wild chase to find her myself.
"My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
It gives a lovely light!"
That poem moved me—I saw myself reflected in it—and I wanted to read more from this poet.
Reading poetry is always a challenge for me. I can never read it in one straight shot, and as a very literal person, I often struggle to grasp the deeper meanings. But Millay’s poetry felt incredibly relatable. I read in a biography that she was a bisexual woman with many lovers, and people say her poetry was written for them. However, after reading Suicide and Thursday (also from the Fig collection) and the rest of this book, I think she was often speaking to herself—to the different versions of herself that existed.
Many assume, though it can’t be proven, that she may have had mental health struggles. As someone with bipolar disorder, reading her poetry felt like listening to the different voices within myself—depression, anxiety, mania. I didn’t love every poem, but enough of them deeply moved me to make this book worth reading. I just wish a teacher had introduced me to Millay earlier, rather than me having to go on a wild chase to find her myself.
emotional
lighthearted
reflective
medium-paced
brilliant, perfect, amazing, lovely. what else can i say?