Explore "How Innocent we Lie Among" by Edna St. Vincent Millay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The righteous! -Lord, how sweet we smell, / Doing this wicked thing, this love, / Bought up by bishops! -doing well, / With all our leisure, all our pride, / What's illy done and done in haste
By licensed folk on every side, / Spitting out fruit before they taste.
(That stalk must thrust a clubby bud;
Push an abortive flower to birth.)
Under the moon and the lit scud
Of the clouds, the cool conniving earth
Pillows my head, where your head lies;
Weep, if you must, into my hair
Tomorrow's trouble: the cold eyes
That know you gone and wonder where.
But tell the bishops with their sons, / Shout to the City Hall how we
Under a thick barrage of guns
Filched their divine commodity.