Explore "Not, to Me" by Edna St. Vincent Millay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Not, to me, less lavish-though my dreams have been splendid- Than dreams, have been the hours of the actual day:
Never, awaking, did I awake to say:
"Nothing could be like that," when a dream was ended.
Colours, in dream; ecstasy, in dream extended
Beyond the edge of sleep-these, in their way, / Approach, come even close, yet pause, yet stay, / In the high presence of request by its answer attended.
Music, and painting, poetry, love, and grief, / Had they been more intense, I could not have borne,-
Yet, not, I think, through stout endurance lacked;
Rather, because the budding and the falling leaf
Were one, and wonderful,-not to be torn
Apart: I ask of dream: seem like the fact.