Back to Index

Dirge

by Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1921

Boys and girls that held her dear,
   Do your weeping now;
All you loved of her lies here.
Brought to earth the arrogant brow,
   And the withering tongue
Chastened; do your weeping now.
Sing whatever songs are sung,
   Wind whatever wreath,
For a playmate perished young,
For a spirit spent in death.
   Boys and girls that held her dear,
All you loved of her lies here.

Published in Second April
Tags: death, funerals, grief, loss

Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.