Poems. Edna St. Vincent Millay

me,

       And weeds were tall on all the paths that led that way!

The Shroud

       Table of Contents

      Death, I say, my heart is bowed

       Unto thine—O mother!

       This red gown will make a shroud

       Good as any other!

      (I, that would not wait to wear

       My own bridal things,

       In a dress dark as my hair

       Made my answerings.

      I, to-night, that till he came

       Could not, could not wait,

       In a gown as bright as flame

       Held for them the gate.)

      Death, I say, my heart is bowed

       Unto thine—O mother!

       This red gown will make a shroud

       Good as any other!