Tag Archives: Edna St. Vincent Millay

Spring

A reader reminded me that spring has just begun, and that in turn reminded me of a peculiar poem I’ve always liked, by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950), whose poetry is wildly erratic. This is Edna St. Vincent Millay at her best: Spring To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough.…

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