Poems (Millay)/Memorial to D. C.
Memorial to D. C.
[Vassar College, 1918]
Oh, loveliest throat of all sweet throats, Where now no more the music is,With hands that wrote you little notes I write you little elegies!
I
Epitaph
Heap not on this mound Roses that she loved so well;Why bewilder her with roses, That she cannot see or smell?She is happy where she liesWith the dust upon her eyes.
II
Prayer to Persephone
Be to her, Persephone,All the things I might not be;Take her head upon your knee.She that was so proud and wild,Flippant, arrogant and free,She that had no need of me,Is a little lonely childLost in Hell—Persephone,Take her head upon your knee;Say to her, "My dear, my dear,It is not so dreadful here."
III
Chorus
Give away her gowns,Give away her shoes;She has no more useFor her fragrant gowns;Take them all down,Blue, green, blue,Lilac, pink, blue,From their padded hangers,She will dance no moreIn her narrow shoes;Sweep her narrow shoesFrom the closet floor.
IV
Elegy
Let them bury your big eyesIn the secret earth securely,Your thin fingers, and your fair,Soft, indefinite-coloured hair,—All of these in some way, surely,From the secret earth shall rise;Not for these I sit and stare,Broken and bereft completely;Your young flesh that sat so neatlyOn your little bones will sweetlyBlossom in the air.
But your voice,—never the rushingOf a river underground,Not the rising of the windIn the trees before the rain,Not the woodcock's watery call,Not the note the white-throat utters,Not the feet of children pushingYellow leaves along the guttersIn the blue and bitter fall,Shall content my musing mindFor the beauty of that sound That in no new way at allEver will be heard again.Sweetly through the sappy stalkOf the vigorous weed,Holding all it held before,Cherished by the faithful sun,On and on eternallyShall your altered fluid run,Bud and bloom and go to seed;But your singing days are done;But the music of your talkNever shall the chemistryOf the secret earth restore.All your lovely words are spoken.Once the ivory box is broken,Beats the golden bird no more.
V
Dirge
Boys and girls that held her dear, Do your weeping now;All you loved of her lies here.
Brought to earth the arrogant brow, And the withering tongueChastened; do your weeping now.
Sing whatever songs are sung, Wind whatever wreath,For a playmate perished young,
For a spirit spent in death.Boys and girls that held her dear,All you loved of her lies here.