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American Literature – American Poetry – Edna St. Vincent Millay – Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay
< < < Only until this cigarette is ended
No rose that in a garden ever grew > > >
Once more into my arid days like dew
Sonnet
Once more into my arid days like dew,
Like wind from an oasis, or the sound
Of cold sweet water bubbling underground,
A treacherous messenger, the thought of you
Comes to destroy me; once more I renew
Firm faith in your abundance, whom I found
Long since to be but just one other mound
Of sand, whereon no green thing ever grew.
And once again, and wiser in no wise,
I chase your coloured phantom on the air,
And sob and curse and fall and weep and rise
And stumble pitifully on to where,
Miserable and lost, with stinging eyes,
Once more I clasp,—and there is nothing there.
< < < Only until this cigarette is ended
No rose that in a garden ever grew > > >
American Literature – American Poetry – Edna St. Vincent Millay – Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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