How shall I know, unless I go
To Cairo and Cathay,
Whether or not this blessed spot
Is blest in every way?

Now it may be, the flower for me
Is this beneath my nose:
How shall I tell, unless I smell
The Carthaginian rose?

The fabric of my faithful love
No power shall dim or ravel
Whilst I stay here, -- but oh, my dear,
If I should ever travel!

Added: Feb 3 2004 | Viewed: 2284 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Edna St. Vincent Millay
Poem: 5. To the Not Impossible Him
Volume: A Few Figs From Thistles
Year: Published/Written in 1921
Poem of the Day: Aug 18 2000
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