Here is a wound that never will heal, I know,
Being wrought not of a dearness and a death,
But of a love turned ashes and the breath
Gone out of beauty; never again will grow
The grass on that scarred acre, though I sow
Young seed there yearly and the sky bequeath
Its friendly weathers down, far Underneath
Shall be such bitterness of an old woe.
That April should be shattered by a gust,
That August should be levelled by a rain,
I can endure, and that the lifted dust
Of man should settle to the earth again;
But that a dream can die, will be a thrust
Between my ribs forever of hot pain.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Edna St. Vincent Millay's poem Here Is A Wound That Never Will Heal, I Know

1 Comment

  1. Lola Rossi says:

    In learning of her history, I feel that this is about a lost and disappointing love turned sour, possibly female, that still causes pain at the loss.

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