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This door you might not open, and you did;
So enter now, and see for what slight thing
You are betrayed... Here is no treasure hid,
No cauldron, no clear crystal mirroring
The sought-for truth, no heads of women slain
For greed like yours, no writhings of distress,
But only what you see... Look yet again—
An empty room, cobwebbed and comfortless.
Yet this alone out of my life I kept
Unto myself, lest any know me quite;
And you did so profane me when you crept
Unto the threshold of this room to-night
That I must never more behold your face.
This now is yours. I seek another place.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Read poems about / on: greed, women, truth, alone, night, mirror, woman
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Comments about this poem (Bluebeard
by
Edna St. Vincent Millay
) |
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comments about this poem (Bluebeard by
Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Janice Stromoski
(10/10/2006 3:36:00 PM) |
I discovered Edna early on in life and her poems have stayed with me as some of the most beautiful and well written. This poem in particular remains my favorite. For me, this poem is about that small part of yourself that is sacred and secret from the world. Just like Bluebeard, we would feel that the pinch of injustice is someone came along and stole that away. I hope you come to enjoy Edna as much as I do!
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Barb Pall
(2/16/2006 8:32:00 PM) |
This poem is so melancholy, so uterly unlike the BlueBeard you would expect. The subtle rhymes and the ending, so quiet, and nearly terrifying.
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Edna St. Vincent Millay
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