Small hands, relinquish all
Nothing the fist can hold,—
Not power, not love, not gold—
But suffers from the cold,
And is about to fall.
The mind, at length bereft
Of thinking, and its pain,
Will soon disperse again,
And nothing will remain:
No, not a thought be left.
Exhort the closing eye,
Urge the resisting ear,
To say, “The thrush is here”
To say, “His song is clear”;
To live, before it die.
Small hands, relinquish all:
Nothing the fist can hold,
Not power, not love, not gold,
But suffers from the cold,
And is about to fall.
The mind at length bereft
Of thinking and its pain,
Will soon disperse again,
And nothing will remain:
No, not a thing be left.
Only the ardent eye,
Only the listening ear
Can say, “The thrush was here!”
Can say, “His song was clear!”
Can live, before it die.
I am busy working to bring Edna St. Vincent Millay's "Small hands, relinquish all" to life through some unique musical arrangements and will have a full analysis of the poem here for you soon.
At V2Melody, each arrangement is crafted with care through a thoughtful partnership of human artistry and technological innovation. This process involves:
This creative journey takes time—each composition represents hours of dedicated work to create something that deepens our connection to Edna St. Vincent Millay's words in meaningful ways.
While you wait for the complete interpretation, I invite you to explore other musical arrangements in my gallery or learn more about Edna St. Vincent Millay's life and contributions to literature.
Check back soon to experience how "Small hands, relinquish all" transforms when verse meets melody—a unique journey that makes poetry accessible, engaging, and profoundly moving in new ways.