Sunday, August 05, 2007


In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it shall be as if all of the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night.
--Antoine de St. Exupéry
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can come to any good.


The most I ever did for you, was to outlive you,
But that is much
-- Edna St. Vincent Millay

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