Mine is a body that should die at sea!
And have for a grave, instead of a grave
Six feet deep and the length of me,
All the water that is under the wave!
And terrible fishes to seize my flesh,
Such as a living man might fear,
And eat me while I am firm and fresh,—
Not wait till I’ve been dead for a year!
Edna St. Vincent Millay’s “Burial” is a striking meditation on mortality, dissolution, and the desire for a death that aligns with the speaker’s fierce, unyielding spirit. Composed in Millay’s characteristically vivid and lyrical style, the poem rejects conventional burial rites in favor of a dramatic, almost mythic end—one that embraces the wild, untamed forces of nature rather than the quiet decay of the earth. Through its visceral imagery, defiance of tradition, and existential urgency, “Burial” encapsulates key themes of Millay’s work: rebellion against societal norms, an embrace of the corporeal, and a fascination with the liminal space between life and death.
Millay, a Pulitzer Prize-winning poet and playwright, was a central figure in early 20th-century American literature. Known for her bohemian lifestyle, feminist ideals, and lyrical intensity, she often explored themes of love, death, and individual autonomy. “Burial” reflects her characteristic boldness, rejecting passive acceptance of death in favor of a more dynamic, even violent, surrender to nature.
The early 20th century was a time of shifting attitudes toward death and burial. Traditional Victorian mourning customs were being questioned, and modernist writers often depicted death in more visceral, less sentimentalized terms. Millay’s poem fits within this broader cultural movement, challenging the sanitized rituals of burial with a vision of bodily dissolution that is both terrifying and exhilarating.
At its core, “Burial” is a rejection of the conventional grave—a space marked by order, containment, and slow decay. The speaker declares:
“Mine is a body that should die at sea! / And have for a grave, instead of a grave / Six feet deep and the length of me, / All the water that is under the wave!”
Here, the speaker refuses the static confinement of a traditional burial, instead choosing the vast, uncontrollable sea as her final resting place. The sea symbolizes both freedom and annihilation—an unbounded space where the body is not preserved but actively consumed. This preference for a dramatic, almost theatrical death aligns with Millay’s broader poetic persona, which often embraced intensity over restraint.
The poem’s middle stanzas heighten this sense of immediacy and physicality:
“And terrible fishes to seize my flesh, / Such as a living man might fear, / And eat me while I am firm and fresh,— / Not wait till I’ve been dead for a year!”
The imagery here is strikingly corporeal. The “terrible fishes” evoke both classical sea monsters (such as those in Homer’s Odyssey) and the inevitable reality of bodily decay. Yet unlike the slow, invisible decomposition of an earth burial, this process is swift and violent—almost celebratory in its brutality. The speaker does not merely wish to dissolve; she wishes to be actively devoured, to participate in the natural cycle in a way that feels immediate and dramatic.
This rejection of passive decay can be read as a broader metaphor for Millay’s resistance to societal expectations, particularly those imposed on women. Just as she refuses the quiet, orderly grave, she often rejected the subdued, domestic roles assigned to women in her time. Her poetry frequently champions autonomy, passion, and a refusal to conform—qualities vividly embodied in “Burial.”
Millay’s use of vivid, tactile imagery immerses the reader in the poem’s visceral world. The “terrible fishes” are not abstract symbols but tangible, almost cinematic presences. The contrast between “firm and fresh” and “dead for a year” underscores the speaker’s desire for a death that is immediate, even while she is still vital. There is an urgency here, a refusal to let death be a slow fade into nothingness.
The poem’s tone is both defiant and exultant. The exclamation points in the first and last lines give the speaker’s declaration a sense of fervor, even ecstasy. This is not a lament but a proclamation—a demand for a death as fierce and uncontained as life itself.
Structurally, the poem’s brevity and rhythmic intensity contribute to its emotional force. The lines are taut, with a driving momentum that mirrors the relentless pull of the sea. There is no hesitation, no softening of the poem’s central assertion.
The poem’s imagery evokes ancient maritime myths—sailors devoured by sea creatures, bodies lost to the abyss. Yet Millay’s treatment is distinctly modern. Unlike classical elegies, which often seek to memorialize the dead, “Burial” embraces obliteration. The speaker does not seek remembrance but rather a complete merging with the natural world.
This aligns with certain existential and Romantic ideas—the notion that death should be as dynamic as life, that dissolution is not an end but a transformation. The sea, in this reading, becomes a symbol of the sublime: vast, terrifying, and awe-inspiring. The speaker does not fear annihilation but welcomes it as a kind of consummation.
Millay’s poem can be fruitfully compared to other works that depict death at sea. One might think of Tennyson’s “Crossing the Bar,” which also uses maritime imagery to contemplate mortality. However, where Tennyson’s poem is serene and accepting, Millay’s is fierce and desirous of action. Another compelling comparison is with Whitman’s “Song of Myself,” particularly the famous passage where he declares:
“I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, / If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.”
Like Millay, Whitman embraces bodily dissolution as a return to nature. Yet Millay’s vision is more violent, more immediate—less about quiet regeneration than about dramatic consumption.
“Burial” is a poem of extraordinary intensity, one that turns the inevitability of death into an act of defiance. The speaker does not merely accept mortality; she shapes it, demands that it be as vivid and untamed as her life. In doing so, Millay challenges not only traditional burial rites but also the cultural tendency to sanitize death, to render it passive and orderly.
The poem’s enduring power lies in its unflinching embrace of the body’s fate—not as something to be feared, but as a final, fierce communion with the natural world. In just eight lines, Millay captures a worldview that is both terrifying and exhilarating, a reminder that even in death, there can be wildness, vitality, and a refusal to be contained.
For modern readers, “Burial” resonates as a testament to the human desire for agency, even in the face of the inevitable. It is a poem that does not soothe but electrifies, leaving us with the image of a body surrendered to the sea—not with resignation, but with a cry of exultation.
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