Nothing New

Classic writing, modern delivery

Edna St. Vincent Millay · Early Poems

Poem 96 of 141 · The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems

Feast

— ✻ —

I drank at every vine.
The last was like the first.
I came upon no wine
So wonderful as thirst.

I gnawed at every root.
I ate of every plant.
I came upon no fruit
So wonderful as want.

Feed the grape and bean
To the vintner and monger;
I will lie down lean
With my thirst and my hunger.

Receive Edna St. Vincent Millay one poem at a time, on your schedule.
Subscribe →