Monday, September 6, 2010


by Edna St Vincent Millay

Sorrow like a ceaseless rain
Beats upon my heart.

People twist and scream in pain,
Dawn will find them still again;

This has neither wax nor wane,

Neither stop nor start.

People dress and go to town;
I sit in my chair.

All my thoughts are slow and brown:

Standing up or sitting down

Little matters, or what gown
Or what shoes I wear.

by the National

by me

tomorrow I will keep busy
and will not think of him.
sending emails can be so serious,
paying bills always grim.

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