What lips my lips have kissed
Edna St. Vincent Millay
1892 to 1950
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What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under head till morning; but the rain
Is full of tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
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