Sunday, January 10, 2010

Sunday Sonnet

Edna St. Vincent Millay


If I should learn, in some quite casual way,
That you were gone, not to return again --
Read from the back-page of a paper, say,
Held by a neighbor in a subway train,
How at the corner of this avenue
And such a street (so are the papers filled)
A hurrying man -- who happened to be you --
At noon to-day had happened to be killed,
I should not cry aloud -- I could not cry
Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place --
I should but watch the station lights rush by
With a more careful interest on my face,
Or raise my eyes and read with greater care
Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

The sun that warmed our stooping backs
and withered the weeds uprooted -
We shall not feel it again.
We shall die in darkness and be buried in the rain.

Justice Denied in Massachusetts