|
IF I should learn, in some quite casual way,
That you were gone, not to return again—
Read from the back-page of a paper, say,
Held by a neighbor in a subway train,
How at the corner of this avenue
And such a street (so are the papers filled)
A hurrying man—who happened to be you—
At noon to-day had happened to be killed,
I should not cry aloud—I could not cry
Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place—
I should but watch the station lights rush by
With a more careful interest on my face,
Or raise my eyes and read with greater care
Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.
|
Comments
Again, I am floored by Millay's imagery in her sonnets. She appears on the surface to have a certain cattiness in her poetry. She at once appears hurt and bitter. After reflecting on the poem, one can easily see that the bitter tone of the speaker barely conceals a dreadfully hurt woman who conforms to society's ideas of how she should react or behave in her brokenhearted state.
Amelia Fairley from United States