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Edna St. Vincent Millay · Early Poems

Poem 115 of 141 · The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems

Siege

— ✻ —

This I do, being mad:
Gather baubles about me,
Sit in a circle of toys, and all the time
Death beating the door in.

White jade and an orange pitcher,
Hindu idol, Chinese god,--
Maybe next year, when I'm richer--
Carved beads and a lotus pod....

And all this time
Death beating the door in.

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