National Poetry Month

[brigdh]

Fatal Interview XLVII Edna St. Vincent Millay

Well, I have lost you, and lost you fairly,
In my own way and with my full consent.
Say what you will, Kings in a tumbrel rarely
Went to their deaths more proud than this one went.
Some nights of apprehension and hot weeping
I will confess; but that's permitted me;
Day dried my eyes; I was not one for keeping
Rubbed in a cage a wing that would be free.
If I had loved you less or played you slyly
I might have held you for a summer more,
But at the cost of words I value highly,
And no such summer as the one before.
Should I outlive this anguish- and men do-
I shall have only good to say of you.