Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
To The Wife Of a Sick Friend
Shelter this candle from the wind.
Hold it steady. In its light
The cave wherein we wander lost
Glitters with frosty stalactite,
Blossoms with mineral rose and lotus,
Sparkles with crystal moon and star,
Till a man would rather be lost than found:
We have forgotten where we are.
Shelter this candle. Shrewdly blowing
Down the cave from a secret door
Enters our only foe, the wind.
Hold it steady. Lest we stand,
Each in a sudden, separate dark,
The hot wax spattered upon your hand,
The smoking wick in my nostrils strong,
The inner eyelid red and green
For a moment yet with moons and roses,—
Then the unmitigated dark.
Alone, alone in a terrible place,
In utter dark without a face,
With only the dripping of the water on the stone,
And the sound of your tears, and the taste of my own.
March ended with such promise...
April rushed in with new love's blush.
May flowered, and so did we.
But June came,
and the open blossoms felt faint.
Petal by petal,
'til only the core remained.
Even that held hope.
But July bore down,
threatening even the core.
Will we remember May
Or will the ravages of July remain?
Will we remember June
And will you call my name?