Explore "Scrub" by Edna St. Vincent Millay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
If I grow bitterly, / Like a gnarled and stunted tree, / Bearing harshly of my youth / Puckered fruit that sears the mouth;
If I make of my drawn boughs / An inhospitable house, / Out of which I never pry / Towards the water and the sky, / Under which I stand and hide / And hear the day go by outside;
It is that a wind too strong / Bent my back when I was young, / It is that I fear the rain / Lest it blister me again.