Weeds
Edna St. Vincent Millay
1892 to 1950
Track 1
Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. You can also use the up (↑) and down (↓) arrows to move a line one place at a time, or the top (⇑) and bottom (⇓) arrows to move a line directly to the top or bottom. Your goal is to reassemble the original poem as accurately as possible. As you move the lines, you'll see whether your arrangement is correct, helping you explore the poem's flow and meaning. You can also print out the jumbled poem to cut up and reassemble in the classroom. Either way, take your time, enjoy the process, and discover how the poet's words come together to create something truly beautiful.
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White with daisies and red with sorrel
And here a while, where no wind brings
Cursed by farmers thriftily.
May sleep the sleep of blessed things
Is a worthless crop of crimson weeds,
And empty, empty under the sky!—
The sorrel runs in ragged flame,
And this red fire that here I see
Here is a place for me to lie.
But here, unhated for an hour,
Life is a quest and love a quarrel—
Like flowers that bear an honest name.
The blood too bright, the brow accurst.
The daisy stands, a bastard flower,
The baying of a pack athirst,
Daisies spring from damnèd seeds,
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