
hung low swamp weeds
dark shapes rise like smoke
blog lights dance and swirl
tiny pensive beings wait
ancient souls weep our name
This is a poetry,prose,Haiku and writing site
Edna St. Vincent Millay
1916
My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends-
It gives a lovely light!
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