I Am Waylaid By Beauty.

Life Is A Quest And Love A Quarrel

I Am Glad That I Paid So Little Attention To Good Advice; Had I Abided By It I Might Have Been Saved From Some Of My Most Valuable Mistakes.

A Poem From Edna St. Vincent Millay: Grown-up Was It For This I Uttered Prayers, And Sobbed And Cursed And Kicked The Stairs, That Now, Domestic As A Plate, I Should Retire At Half-past Eight?

To A Young Poet Time Cannot Break The Bird's Wing From The Bird. Bird And Wing Together Go Down, One Feather. No Thing That Ever Flew, Not The Lark, Not You, Can Die As Others Do.

To What Purpose, April, Do You Return Again? Beauty Is Not Enough.