Explore "No Rose that in a Garden Ever Grew" by Edna St. Vincent Millay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
No rose that in a garden ever grew, / In Homer's or in Omar's or in mine, / Though buried under centuries of fine
Dead dust of roses, shut from sun and dew
Forever, and forever lost from view, / But must again in fragrance rich as wine
The grey aisles of the air incarnadine
When the old summers surge into a new. Thus when I swear, "I love with all my heart,"
'Tis with the heart of Lilith that I swear, / 'Tis with the love of Lesbia and Lucrece; And thus as well my love must lose some part
Of what it is, had Helen been less fair, / Or perished young, or stayed at home in Greece.