Sonnet in Dialectic

Edna St. Vincent Millay

1892 to 1950

Poem Image
Track 1

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Some day, they stumble on her burial-mound.
Upon a poked-at fire; all courage lost
And is indeed truth beauty?—at the cost
And find her, if you can; finding her drowned
And trap the thoughtful, with their thoughts engrossed?
Honour and pity ridiculed, and tossed
To one and all insist she has been found . . .
To move among the unsuspecting free
Save what is whelped and fattened by decree
Will not dismay your ethics,—you will still
To see the coarse triumphant, and to see
Drag yet that stream for Beauty, if you will;
And haggard men will smile your praise, until,
Of all else that we cared for, can this be?—

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