Weeds
Edna St. Vincent Millay
1892 to 1950
Type into the gaps to complete the poem. To reset the game, click on the "Reset Game" button located below the poem. This will clear all the words you've placed in the blanks, and resetting the poem to its original state with empty blanks. If you prefer to drag and drop words, click the Drag & Drop button below. You can also print out the poem for use in the classroom.
White with daisies and red with sorrel
And empty, under the sky!—
Life is a quest and a quarrel—
Here is a place for me to lie.
Daisies spring from damnèd seeds,
And this red fire here I see
Is a worthless crop of crimson weeds,
Cursed by farmers thriftily.
But here, unhated for an hour,
The sorrel runs in ragged flame,
The daisy stands, bastard flower,
Like flowers that bear an honest name.
here a while, where no wind brings
The baying a pack athirst,
May sleep the sleep of blessed
The blood too bright, the brow accurst.
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