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Edna St. Vincent Millay - Three Songs Of Shattering
Work rating: Medium

I
The first rose on my rose-tree 
Budded, bloomed, and shattered, 
During sad days when to me 
Nothing mattered. 

Grief of grief has drained me clean; 
Still it seems a pity 
No one saw, — it must have been 
Very pretty. 

II

Let the little birds sing; 
Let the little lambs play; 
Spring is here; and so `tis spring; — 
But not in the old way! 

I recall a place 
Where a plum-tree grew; 
There you lifted up your face, 
And blossoms covered you. 

If the little birds sing, 
And the little lambs play, 
Spring is here; and so `tis spring — 
But not in the old way! 

III

All the dog-wood blossoms are underneath the tree! 
Ere spring was going — ah, spring is gone! 
And there comes no summer to the like of you and me, — 
Blossom time is early, but no fruit sets on. 

All the dog-wood blossoms are underneath the tree, 
Browned at the edges, turned in a day; 
And I would with all my heart they trimmed a mound for me, 
And weeds were tall on all the paths that led that way!
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