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Read more poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay: Edna St. Vincent Millay Poems at Poetry X.

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Sonnets 09: Let You Not Say Of Me When I Am Old

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Let you not say of me when I am old,
In pretty worship of my withered hands
Forgetting who I am, and how the sands
Of such a life as mine run red and gold
Even to the ultimate sifting dust, "Behold,
Here walketh passionless age!"—for there expands
A curious superstition in these lands,
And by its leave some weightless tales are told.

In me no lenten wicks watch out the night;
I am the booth where Folly holds her fair;
Impious no less in ruin than in strength,
When I lie crumbled to the earth at length,
Let you not say, "Upon this reverend site
The righteous groaned and beat their breasts in prayer."

Added: 6 Oct 2002 | Last Read: 23 Apr 2018 7:24 PM | Viewed: 3666 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/7384/ | Viewed on 23 April 2018.
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