Into the Woods

Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1914. Photo by Arnold Genthe

It’s a ritual of mine to send out this poem every year using whatever communications system is close at hand. It used to be newspaper Atex or SII systems. Then it was email. This year it’s the blog…

The Goose-Girl

Spring rides no horses down the hill,
But comes on foot, a goose-girl still.
And all the loveliest things there be
Come simply, so, it seems to me.
If ever I said, in grief or pride,
I tired of honest things, I lied:
And should be cursed forevermore
With Love in laces, like a whore,
And neighbours cold, and friends unsteady,
And Spring on horseback, like a lady!

— Edna St. Vincent Millay