My Husband Has a Crush on This Poet Although I think I'm a Little Prettier and a Lot Less Dead

Sonnet xxix

Pity me not because the light of day

At close of day no longer walks the sky;

Pity me not for beauties passed away

From field and thicket as the year goes by;

Pity me not the waning of the moon,

Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea,

Nor that a man's desire is hushed so soon,

And you no longer look with love on me.

This have I known always: Love is no more

Than the wide blossom which the sea assails,

Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore,

Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales;

Pity me that the heart is slow to learn

What the swift mind beholds at every turn.
Edna St. Vincent Millay


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