[1892–1950, American]
What lips my
lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.
Millay, E 1923, ‘What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why’, from Collected Poems, Harper &
Brothers Publishers.
Reproduced
in Chernaik, J 2012, Poems on the
Underground: A New Edition, Penguin Hardback Classics.
