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Poem of the Day

January 19, 2008

    V&C in bed from 'Orphans'


By Edna St. Vincent Millay

Love is not all: It is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain,
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
and rise and sink and rise and sink again.
Love cannot fill the thickened lung with breath
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
pinned down by need and moaning for release
or nagged by want past resolutions power,
I might be driven to sell you love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It may well be. I do not think I would.

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Now scroll down to read everyone else's comments.

Nancy     1/19/2008 7:07:41 AM
Having just read this poem aloud to Hank we smiled in wonder at these words that are able to read hearts the author has not known. Or has she? Perhaps love IS universal, though too often it seems to be hiding in our modern world. Thank you, Candlemakers, for exposing it here.

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