Poems. Edna St. Vincent Millay

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СКАЧАТЬ world stands out on either side

       No wider than the heart is wide;

       Above the world is stretched the sky—

       No higher than the soul is high.

       The heart can push the sea and land

       Farther away on either hand;

       The soul can split the sky in two,

       And let the face of God shine through.

       But East and West will pinch the heart

       That cannot keep them pushed apart;

       And he whose soul is flat—the sky

       Will cave in on him by and by.

God’s World

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      O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!

       Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!

       Thy mists, that roll and rise!

       Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag

       And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag

       To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!

       World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!

      Long have I known a glory in it all,

       But never knew I this;

       Here such a passion is

       As stretcheth me apart—Lord, I do fear

       Thou’st made the world too beautiful this year;

       My soul is all but out of me—let fall

       No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

Afternoon on a Hill

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      I will be the gladdest thing

       Under the sun!

       I will touch a hundred flowers

       And not pick one.

      I will look at cliffs and clouds

       With quiet eyes,

       Watch the wind bow down the grass,

       And the grass rise.

      And when lights begin to show

       Up from the town,

       I will mark which must be mine,

       And then start down.

Journey

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      Ah, could I lay me down in this long grass

       And close my eyes, and let the quiet wind

       Blow over me—I am so tired, so tired

       Of passing pleasant places! All my life,

       Following Care along the dusty road,

       Have I looked back at loveliness and sighed;

       Yet at my hand an unrelenting hand

       Tugged ever, and I passed. All my life long

       Over my shoulder have I looked at peace

       And now I fain would lie in this long grass

       And close my eyes.

       Yet onward!

       Cat-birds call

       Through the long afternoon, and creeks at dusk

       Are guttural. Whip-poor-wills wake and cry,

       Drawing the twilight close about their throats.

       Only my heart makes answer. Eager vines

       Go up the rocks and wait; flushed apple-trees

       Pause in their dance and break the ring for me;

       Dim, shady wood-roads, redolent of fern

       And bayberry, that through sweet bevies thread

       Of round-faced roses, pink and petulant,

       Look back and beckon ere they disappear.

       Only my heart, only my heart responds.

       Yet, ah, my path is sweet on either side

       All through the dragging day—sharp underfoot,

       And hot, and like dead mist the dry dust hangs—

       But far, oh, far as passionate eye can reach,

       And long, ah, long as rapturous eye can cling,

       The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake,

       Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road

       A gateless garden, and an open path:

       My feet to follow, and my heart to hold.

Sorrow

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      Sorrow like a ceaseless rain

       Beats upon my heart.

       People twist and scream in pain—

       Dawn will find them still again;

       This has neither wax nor wane,

       Neither stop nor start.

      People dress and go to town;

       I sit in my chair.

       All my thoughts are slow and brown:

       Standing up or sitting down

       Little matters, or what gown

       Or what shoes I wear.

Tavern

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