by Edna St Vincent Millay
Only until this cigarette is ended,
A little moment at the end of all,
While on the floor the quiet ashes fall,
And in the firelight to a lance extended,
Bizarrely with the jazzing music blended,
The broken shadow dances on the wall,
I will permit my memory to recall
The vision of you, by all my dreams attended.
And then adieu,--farewell!--the dream is done.
Yours is a face of which I can forget
The colour and the features, every one,
The words not ever, and the smiles not yet;
But in your day this moment is the sun
Upon a hill, after the sun has set.
Millay (1892-1950) wrote about 200 sonnets, all technically excellent. In 1923 she was awarded the Pullitzer Prize, but after her death her reputation waned as free verse became ascendent. Relationships - sharply observed - are her forte.
One of my favourite poets
ReplyDeleteAnd in this day and age of cigarette smoking not being so much the norm as in her day, can a reader truly understand the sort of contemplation she references here? Perhaps, if carefully watching an old movie, where cigarette smoking was as much a part of expression in a scene as a downcast eye or waggling finger. Do I wax nostalgic? Not really, but there was a time when I smoked on occasion and know the mood she is capturing with that opening phrase.
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