#Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales:

[oflights]

"Pity me not because the light of day"

Pity me not because the light of day At close of day no longer walks the sky; Pity me not for beauties passed away From field and thicket as the year goes by; Pity me not the waning of the moon, Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea, Nor that a man’s desire is hushed so soon, And you no longer look with love on me. This have I known always: Love is no more Than the wide blossom which the wind assails, Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore, Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales: Pity me that the heart is slow to learn What the swift mind beholds at every turn.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

[apoemaday]

Sonnet 29

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Pity me not because the light of day At close of day no longer walks the sky; Pity me not for beauties passed away From field to thicket as the year goes by; Pity me not the waning of the moon, Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea. Nor that a man’s desire is hushed so soon. And you no longer look with love on me. This have I known always: Love is no more Than the wide blossom which the wind assails. Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore. Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales: Pity me that the heart is slow to learn What the swift mind beholds at every turn.

[notoriousbeb]

Sonnet 29 – Pity Me Not Because the Light of Day Edna St. Vincent Millay

Pity me not because the light of day

At close of day no longer walks the sky;

Pity me not for beauties passed away

From field and thicket as the year goes by;

Pity me not the waning of the moon,

Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea,

Nor that a man’s desire is hushed so soon,

And you no longer look with love on me.

This have I known always: Love is no more

Than the wide blossom which the wind assails,

Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore,

Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales:

Pity me that the heart is slow to learn

What the swift mind beholds at every turn.

…

In other words, don’t pity the poet because what he wants what he can no longer have. Or because who he loves no longer loves him. Pity him because his heart was too slow to learn what his mind already knew: that love never lasts. It wrecks and destroys. Uplifting!

[thelonelybrilliance]

"Pity me not because the light of day" - Edna St. Vincent Millay

Pity me not because the light of day

At close of day no longer walks the sky;

Pity me not for beauties passed away

From field and thicket as the year goes by;

Pity me not the waning of the moon,

Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea,

Nor that a man’s desire is hushed so soon,

And you no longer look with love on me.

This have I known always: Love is no more

Than the wide blossom which the wind assails,

Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore,

Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales:

Pity me that the heart is slow to learn

What the swift mind beholds at every turn.

[graywyvern]

( via / via )

The Fountain.

"XXIX

Pity me not because the light of day At close of day no longer walks the sky; Pity me not for beauties passed away From field and thicket as the year goes by; Pity me not the waning of the moon, Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea, Nor that a man’s desire is hushed so soon, And you no longer look with love on me.

This have I known always: Love is no more Than the wide blossom which the wind assails, Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore, Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales: Pity me that the heart is slow to learn What the swift mind beholds at every turn."

--Edna St Vincent Millay

Mural of Madness.

"memories     terribly leaked away" --@sapphobot

Purring.

[pagebypagepoetry]

This have I known always: Love is no more than the wide blossom which the wind assails, then the great tide that treads the shifting shore, strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales; Pity me that the heart is slow to learn what the swift wind beholds at every turn.

Edna St. Vincent Millay, Sonnet VI; The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Pity me not because the light of day

At close of day no longer walks the sky;

Pity me not for beauties passed away

From field and thicket as the year goes by;

Pity me not the waning of the moon,

Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea,

Nor that a man’s desire is hushed so soon,

And you no longer look with love on me.

This have I known always: Love is no more

Than the wide blossom which the wind assails,

Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore,

Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales:

Pity me that the heart is slow to learn

What the swift mind beholds at every turn.

—Edna St Vincent Millay

“It was strange how your brain could know what your heart refused to accept.”

— J.K. Rowling

[onewasthebookthief]

“Pity me not because the light of day”

By Edna St. Vincent Millay

“Pity me not because the light of day

At close of day no longer walks the sky;

Pity me not for beauties passed away

From field and thicket as the year goes by;

Pity me not the waning of the moon,

Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea,

Not that a man’s desire is hushed so soon,

And you no longer look with love on me.

This have I known always: Love is no more

Than the wide blossom which the wind assails

Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore,

Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales:

Pity me that the heart is slow to learn

What the swift mind beholds at every turn.”

[a-t-yorkepoetry]

Pity me not because the light of day

At close of day no longer walks the sky;

Pity me not for beauties passed away

From field and thicket as the year goes by;

Pity me not the waning of the moon,

Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea,

Nor that a woman’s desire is hushed so soon,

And you no longer look with love on me.

This have I known always: Love is no more

Than the wide blossom which the wind assails,

Than the great tide that treads the shifting

shore,

Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales:

Pity me that the heart is slow to learn

What the swift mind beholds at every turn.

[vlasco]

Edna St. Vincent Millay - No sientas pena...

No sientas pena de mi porque la luz del día al anochecer no vuelva a andar por el cielo; no sientas pena de mi por las bellezas idas de campos y matorrales mientras el año pasa; no sientas pena de mi por la luna menguante, ni porque las mareas retrocedan mar adentro, ni porque el deseo del hombre se silencie tan pronto, y tú no me mires más con amor. Esto lo supe siempre: el Amor no es sino la ancha flor que el viento asedia, la gran marea que pasea por la orilla, los escombros que dejaron los temporales: siente pena de que el corazón sea lento en aprender  lo que la mente veloz contempla a cada paso.

Pity me not because the light of day

At close of day no longer walks the sky; Pity me not for beauties passed away From field and thicket as the year goes by; Pity me not the waning of the moon, Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea, Nor that a man's desire is hushed so soon, And you no longer look with love on me. This have I known always: Love is no more Than the wide blossom which the wind assails, Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore, Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales: Pity me that the heart is slow to learn What the swift mind beholds at ever turn.

From Collected poems. Edna St. Vincent Millay. Harper Perennial. New York