What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
An American poet and playwright, Edna St. Vincent Millay was born in Rockland, Maine, on February 22, 1892. In 1923, she received the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry, and was the third woman to win this award for poetry. Millay died in 1950, in her home, of a heart attack. She was 58 years old.