Pity me not
Edna St. Vincent Millay * Track #8 On The Harp-Weaver
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Album The Harp-Weaver
- #1Your face is like a chamber where a king
Edna St. Vincent Millay
- #2Say what you will, and scratch my heart to find
Edna St. Vincent Millay
- #3The light comes back with Columbine
Edna St. Vincent Millay
- #4What’s this of death, from you who never will die?
Edna St. Vincent Millay
- #5I shall go back again to the bleak shore
Edna St. Vincent Millay
- #6Here is a wound that never will heal, I know
Edna St. Vincent Millay
- #7Sometimes when I am wearied suddenly
Edna St. Vincent Millay
- #8Pity me not
Edna St. Vincent Millay
- #9That Love at length should find me out and bring
Edna St. Vincent Millay
- #10When you, that at this moment are to me
Edna St. Vincent Millay
- #11Love is not blind. I see with single eye
Edna St. Vincent Millay
- #12Still will I harvest beauty where it grows
Edna St. Vincent Millay
- #13Loving you less than life, a little less
Edna St. Vincent Millay
- #14I pray you if you love me, bear my joy
Edna St. Vincent Millay
- #15Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that word!
Edna St. Vincent Millay
- #16Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
- #17I know I am but summer to your heart (Sonnet XXVII)
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Pity me not by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Performed by
Edna St. Vincent MillayAbout
This sonnet was written by Edna St. Vincent Millay in 1921. The poem talks about how a man´s love always disappears over time. She uses cyclical nature forces as a metaphor. She concludes the poem saying she can rationally get over him but not emotionally.
Pity me not Annotated
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 love I have known always: love is no more
Than the wide blossom which the wind 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.