Edna St. Vincent Millay

Edna St. Vincent Millay

About Edna St. Vincent Millay

Edna St. Vincent Millay was born on February 22, 1892 in Maine. She published poems, plays, political writings, and a libretto for an opera.

Millay started to gain fame with the publication of the poem "Renascence" when she was nineteen. It was an entry in a poetry contest, and she came in fourth place. The other people whose poems were recognized above hers said hers was by far the best.

Her poem "The Ballad of the Harp-Weaver" won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1923. She was only the third woman to win this prize for poetry.

During the first World War, Millay was a known pacifist, but from 1940 on, she supported the Allied Forces, and even wrote poetry to support their efforts. This work for the war hurt her reputation among her peers in poetry circles.

Millay and her husband lived in a farmhouse in Austerlitz, NY for 25 years together. Her husband wanted to create a place that would be conducive to her writing. The house at Steepletop has now become a museum that is open to the public, where tours are available through the house and gardens.

Edna St. Vincent Millay passed away on October 19, 1950.

References

    Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay

  • Dirge Without Music

    in Famous Death Poems

    I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
    So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:
    Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
    With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

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  • The Ballad Of The Harp Weaver

    in Famous Sad Poems

    "Son," said my mother,
    When I was knee-high,
    "you've need of clothes to cover you,
    and not a rag have I.

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    • Poem of the Week
    Latest Shared Story

    The poem is a short, sweet, and precise journey of a great son-mother relationship. It takes one through the sacred and holy shares of time given by a mother in dedication to her child. The...

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  • Ebb

    in Famous Sad Love Poems

    I know what my heart is like
    Since your love died:
    It is like a hollow ledge
    Holding a little pool

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  • Spring

    in Famous Nature Poems

    To what purpose, April, do you return again?
    Beauty is not enough.
    You can no longer quiet me with the redness
    Of little leaves opening stickily.

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