Springtime with Edna

Outside is icy grey blah, but inside is the springtime of my infatuation with Edna St. Vincent Millay. Her poems are such pinpricks to the heart and these early editions were such a find! (Plus, they smell like they’ve been living in the makeup drawer of someone’s happily unmarried Aunt since 1939.)

Despite being one of the greatest American poets of her time (not to mention a feminist, anti-fascist critic of capitalism), more attention was often paid to her romantic relationships than her writing.

Sadly, she died at only 58 after falling down the stairs. Imagine all she had left to say that will remain forever unwritten.

Also, note to self: maybe stop racing down the stairs in fuzzy socks?