Explore "When Death was Young" by Edna St. Vincent Millay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When Death was young and bleaching bones were few, / A moving hill against the risen day
The dinosaur at morning made his way, / And dropped his dung upon the blazing dew; Trees with no name that now are agate grew
Lushly beside him in the steamy clay; He woke and hungered, rose and stalked his prey, / And slept contented, in a world he knew. In punctual season, with the race in mind, / His consort held aside her heavy tail, / And took the seed; and heard the seed confined
Roar in her womb; and made a nest to hold
A hatched-out conqueror... but to no avail:
The veined and fertile eggs are long since cold.