[Marybeth Rua-Larsen]

I agree, Kate, that Millay does sound old-fashioned (which I termed "theatrical"), and after reading Savage Beauty this summer, she did not sound at all like the 1920s bohemian diva I expected. And yet I couldn't help but be enthralled.

Sorry it didn't work for you, Catherine. Technology is great when you can get it to work...

[Catherine Chandler]

Marybeth,

I finally got it to work, and what an amazing recording it is! Thank you so much for the link.

Catherine

[Roger Slater]

Everyone knows this one, but familiarity does nothing to subdue the goosebumps:


Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide.
There are a hundred places where I fear
To go - so with his memory they brim.
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, 'There is no memory of him here!'
And so stand stricken, so remembering him.

[Catherine Chandler]

Robert,

This is the first poem by Millay that I memorized as a teenager back in the sixties. I haven't entered my "personal canon" on the other thread, but were I to do so, this poem would be there.

Catherine