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Simply Vincent
by Doris Leuth Stengel

Edna St. Vincent Millay

No more back and forthing.
No more riding on the ferry.
I lie under sumac for I am very tired.

No more choices,
no more prizes,
no more platforms,
no more apples, no more pears,
no more warring with Mama.

Life was very merry,
but I had grown weary.
No escaping death
of people who matter.
Dear Eugen, who wed my poetry,
allowed me to burn my candle
as I saw fit. Perhaps
he should have reined me in.
I broke our brittle vows
with abandon and panache.
Lovely boys and toys,
lovely pills and liquor,
lately lost their luster.

I am emptied at last of sonnets,
and old age would not become me.
Let my flaming hair go gray?
Nay, I choose the stairway.
Regrets? Oh, yes, I have regrets.
But life was very merry.
I rode it to a fare-thee-well.
I cast a lovely light.

It was I who wrote
"Tranquility at length when autumn comes."
So I rest here under sumac.
No more riding on the ferry.
 

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