Explore "If, in the Foggy Aleutians" by Edna St. Vincent Millay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Not ever, now, any more, upon this mildewed planet / Shines the sweet, wholesome sun: we live in fog.
Our leaves grow large and green, but we bear no blossom;
No coloured hope unfolds, no poem speaks out / In Dutch, Korean, English or Tagalog.
Yet, if, in the foggy Aleutians, if on the misty / Island of Kiska, island of Attu, any
Flower, however weak and bleak, appears / In spring, between the cloudy craters, why then, although
It should take us a thousand years, / We can stare into the fog until it shines, we can force it to unfold us.
We must ask the men who have been there; they will know.