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toffishay's review
emotional
funny
reflective
medium-paced
4.0
I loved reading these poems. They're so beautiful, full of life and personality. I won't waste time lamenting that I didn't know about Edna St. Vincent Millay before and I'll just be happy that I know about her now. :)
Content Warnings
Minor: Death
krobart's review
3.0
See my review here:
http://whatmeread.wordpress.com/2014/08/29/day-573-the-selected-poetry-of-edna-st-vincent-millay/
http://whatmeread.wordpress.com/2014/08/29/day-573-the-selected-poetry-of-edna-st-vincent-millay/
reba_reads_books's review against another edition
4.0
I wanted to read a library copy of her work before I delved into a first edition of hers that was gifted to me by someone dear. Some of these poems didn't do much for me, but a great deal of them blew my mind. A lot of them I re-read over and over, in awe at her talent for transporting me into imagery and emotion. Some made me sorrowful, at how truly she understood and articulated grief. Some made me squeal and laugh, to think of a feminist of her time being so upfront, so brazen about relationships and desire. Tbh I would totally send "Thursday" to some fuckbois I know. Bravo, Edna.
percystjoan's review
5.0
i've been working through this collection of selected works for a while now (since i bought it at a bookstore in maine in october, also millay's home state!), choosing to just keep it in my bag at all times and read it whenever the inspiration struck. this really proved to be the best way to do it because not only do i really adore millay's poetry but i also started reading more into her life and have found her to be an incredibly fascinating person which makes her poetry all the better.
she ranges through a TON of styles and moods in her work, but i found that her sonnets were unequivocally my favorite as a collection, although many of her standalone works stood out to me as well. my favorite from the entire book was interim, which is multiple pages long so i won't put it here but if you haven't read it, go give it a read right now - you won't regret it.
witch-wife
she is neither pink nor pale,
and she never will be all mine;
she learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
and her mouth on a valentine.
she has more hair than she needs;
in the sun 'tis a woe to me!
and her voice is a string of colored beads,
or steps leading into the sea.
she loves me all that she can,
and her ways to my ways resign;
but she was not made for any man,
and she never will be all mine.
assault
i had forgotten how the frogs must sound
after a year of silence, else i think
i should not have ventured forth alone
at dusk upon this unfrequented road.
i am waylaid by Beauty. who will walk
between me and the crying of the frogs?
oh, savage Beauty, suffer me to pass,
that am a timid woman, on her way
from one house to another!
when you, that at this moment are to me
when you, that at this moment are to me
dearer than words on paper, shall depart,
and be no more the warder of my heart,
whereof again myself shall hold the key;
and be no more-what now you seem to be-
the sun, from which all excellences start
in a round nimbus, nor a broken dart
of moonlight, even, splintered on the sea;
i shall remember only of this hour-
and weep somewhat, as now you see me weep-
the pathos of your love, that, like a flower,
fearful of death yet amorous of sleep,
droops for a moment and beholds, dismayed,
the wind whereon its petals shall be laid.
[also: elegy, ode to silence, renascence, wraith, and eel-grass.]
she ranges through a TON of styles and moods in her work, but i found that her sonnets were unequivocally my favorite as a collection, although many of her standalone works stood out to me as well. my favorite from the entire book was interim, which is multiple pages long so i won't put it here but if you haven't read it, go give it a read right now - you won't regret it.
witch-wife
she is neither pink nor pale,
and she never will be all mine;
she learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
and her mouth on a valentine.
she has more hair than she needs;
in the sun 'tis a woe to me!
and her voice is a string of colored beads,
or steps leading into the sea.
she loves me all that she can,
and her ways to my ways resign;
but she was not made for any man,
and she never will be all mine.
assault
i had forgotten how the frogs must sound
after a year of silence, else i think
i should not have ventured forth alone
at dusk upon this unfrequented road.
i am waylaid by Beauty. who will walk
between me and the crying of the frogs?
oh, savage Beauty, suffer me to pass,
that am a timid woman, on her way
from one house to another!
when you, that at this moment are to me
when you, that at this moment are to me
dearer than words on paper, shall depart,
and be no more the warder of my heart,
whereof again myself shall hold the key;
and be no more-what now you seem to be-
the sun, from which all excellences start
in a round nimbus, nor a broken dart
of moonlight, even, splintered on the sea;
i shall remember only of this hour-
and weep somewhat, as now you see me weep-
the pathos of your love, that, like a flower,
fearful of death yet amorous of sleep,
droops for a moment and beholds, dismayed,
the wind whereon its petals shall be laid.
[also: elegy, ode to silence, renascence, wraith, and eel-grass.]
titlesandtea's review against another edition
5.0
brilliant, perfect, amazing, lovely. what else can i say?
sarahannkateri's review against another edition
3.0
I like when she writes about death and sleeping around, but most of the nature poems were not for me.