Poem: “Let you not say of me when I am old” Edna St. Vincent Millay

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American Literature – American Poetry – Edna St. Vincent Millay – Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay
< < < And you as well must die, beloved dust
Oh, my beloved, have you thought of this > > >

Let you not say of me when I am old

Sonnet

Let you not say of me when I am old,
In pretty worship of my withered hands
Forgetting who I am, and how the sands
Of such a life as mine run red and gold
Even to the ultimate sifting dust, “Behold,
Here walketh passionless age!”—for there expands
A curious superstition in these lands,
And by its leave some weightless tales are told.
In me no lenten wicks watch out the night;
I am the booth where Folly holds her fair;
Impious no less in ruin than in strength,
When I lie crumbled to the earth at length,
Let you not say, “Upon this reverend site
The righteous groaned and beat their breasts in prayer.”

< < < And you as well must die, beloved dust
Oh, my beloved, have you thought of this > > >

American Literature – American Poetry – Edna St. Vincent Millay – Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay

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Let you not say of me when I am old

Sonnet

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