for my grandfather

[lotesse]

Elegy Before Death, Edna St. Vincent Millay

There will be rose and rhododendron
When you are dead and under ground;
Still will be heard from white syringas
Heavy with bees, a sunny sound;

Still will the tamaracks be raining
After the rain has ceased, and still
Will there be robins in the stubble,
Brown sheep upon the warm green hill.

Spring will not ail nor autumn falter;
Nothing will know that you are gone,
Saving alone some sullen plough-land
None but yourself sets foot upon;

Saving the may-weed and the pig-weed
Nothing will know that you are dead,—
These, and perhaps a useless wagon
Standing beside some tumbled shed.

Oh, there will pass with your great passing
Little of beauty not your own,—
Only the light from common water,
Only the grace from simple stone!

Comments

[starlady]

That's a lovely poem.

It makes me think of my mother, actually.

[lotesse]

Millay writes the loveliest poems, always. I'm currently feeling very pleased with myself for finding a way to work a class encompassing her into my fall semester coursework; I need to spend more time in her textual company.