A Poem from Edna St. Vincent Millay: Grown-up Was it for this I uttered prayers, And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs, That now, domestic as a plate, I should retire at half-past eight?
Edna St. Vincent MillayRead
Should at that moment the full moon Step forth upon the hill, And memories hard to bear at noon, By moonlight harder still, Form in the shadows of the trees, - Things that you could not spare And live, or so you thought, yet these All gone, and you still there, A man no longer what he was, Not yet the thing he planned.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote reflects on the complex nature of identity and the weight of memories.
Edna St. Vincent Millay's quote delves into the struggle of reconciling one's past with the present. It beautifully captures the essence of how memories can weigh heavily on us, particularly during reflective moments, like under the glow of the moon. The speaker feels a disconnection from their former self and grapples with the transformation that time inevitably brings. This sense of uncertainty about one's identity marks a powerful contemplation on the nature of existence and the passage of time.
Themes
IdentityMemoriesTransformationReflectionTime
In practice
Example use cases
During a literary discussion about the impact of memories on identity.
More from Edna St. Vincent Millay
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I went to Boston fully expecting to be arrested - arrested by a polizia created by a government that my ancestors rebelled to establish.
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Listen, children: Your father is dead. From his old coats I'll make you little jackets; I'll make you little trousers From his old pants. There'll be in his pockets Things he used to put there, Keys and pennies Covered with tobacco; Dan shall have the pennies To save in his bank; Anne shall have the keys To make a pretty noise with. Life must go on, Though good men die; Anne, eat your breakfast; Dan, take your medicine; Life must go on; I forget just why.
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I would I were alive again To kiss the fingers of the rain, To drink into my eyes the shine Of every slanting silver line, To catch the freshened, fragrant breeze From drenched and dripping apple-trees. For soon the shower will be done, And then the broad face of the sun Will laugh above the rain-soaked earth Until the world with answering mirth Shakes joyously, and each round drop Rolls twinkling, from its grass-blade top.
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I drank at every vine, the last was like the first. I came upon no wine so wonderful as thirst.
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