Explore "Grief" by Edna St. Vincent Millay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Grief that is grief and properly so hight
Has lodging in the orphaned brain alone, / Whose nest is cold, whose wings are now his own
And thinly feathered for the perchless flight
Between the owl and ermine; overnight
His food is reason, fodder for the grown, / His range is north to famine, south to fright.
When Constant Care was manna to the beak, / And Love Triumphant downed the hovering breast, / Vainly the cuckoo's child might nudge and speak
In ugly whispers to the indignant nest:
How even a feathered heart had power to break, / And thud no more above their huddled rest.