Explore "Keen" by Edna St. Vincent Millay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Weep him dead and mourn as you may, / Me, I sing as I must :
Blessèd be Death, that cuts in marble / What would have sunk to dust!
Blèssed be Death, that took my love / And buried him in the sea,
Where never a lie nor a bitter word / Will out of his mouth at me.
This I have to hold to my heart, / This to take by the hand :
Sweet we were for a summer month / As the sun on the dry white sand;
Mild we were for a summer month / As the wind from over the weirs.
And blessèd be Death, that hushed with salt / The harsh and slovenly years!
Who builds her a house with love for timber / Builds her a house of foam.
And I'd liefer be bride to a lad gone down / Than widow to one safe home.