Explore "The Curse" by Edna St. Vincent Millay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Oh, lay my ashes on the wind / That blows across the sea.
And I shall meet a fisherman / Out of Capri, / And he will say, seeing me, / "What a strange thing!
Like a fish's scale or a / Butterfly's wing."
Oh, lay my ashes on the wind / That blows away the fog.
And I shall meet a farmer boy / Leaping through the bog, / And he will say, seeing me, / "What a strange thing!
Like a peat-ash or a / Butterfly's wing."
And I shall blow to your house / And, sucked against the pane, / See you take your sewing up / And lay it down again.
And you will say, seeing me, / "What a strange thing!
Like a plum petal or a / Butterfly's wing."
And none at all will know me / That knew me well before.
But I will settle at the root / That climbs about your door, / And fishermen and farmers / May see me and forget, / But I'll be a bitter berry / In your brewing yet.