The Suicide

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

　　

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"Curse thee, Life, I will live with thee no more!Thou hast mocked me, starved me, beat my body sore!And all for a pledge that was not pledged by me,I have kissed thy crust and eaten sparinglyThat I might eat again, and met thy sneersWith deprecations, and thy blows with tears,—Aye, from thy glutted lash, glad, crawled away,As if spent passion were a holiday!And now I go. Nor threat, nor easy vowOf tardy kindness can avail thee nowWith me, whence fear and faith alike are flown;Lonely I came, and I depart alone,And know not where nor unto whom I go;But that thou canst not follow me I know."Thus I to Life, and ceased; but through my brainMy thought ran still, until I spake again:"Ah, but I go not as I came,—no traceIs mine to bear away of that old graceI brought! I have been heated in thy fires,Bent by thy hands, fashioned to thy desires,Thy mark is on me! I am not the sameNor ever more shall be, as when I came.Ashes am I of all that once I seemed.In me all's sunk that leapt, and all that dreamedIs wakeful for alarm,—oh, shame to thee,For the ill change that thou hast wrought in me,Who laugh no more nor lift my throat to sing!Ah, Life, I would have been a pleasant thingTo have about the house when I was grownIf thou hadst left my little joys alone!I asked of thee no favor save this one:That thou wouldst leave me playing in the sun!And this thou didst deny, calling my nameInsistently, until I rose and came.I saw the sun no more.—It were not wellSo long on these unpleasant thoughts to dwell,Need I arise to-morrow and renewAgain my hated tasks, but I am throughWith all things save my thoughts and this one night,So that in truth I seem already quiteFree and remote from thee,—I feel no hasteAnd no reluctance to depart; I tasteMerely, with thoughtful mien, an unknown draught,That in a little while I shall have quaffed."Thus I to Life, and ceased, and slightly smiled,Looking at nothing; and my thin dreams filedBefore me one by one till once againI set new words unto an old refrain:"Treasures thou hast that never have been mine!Warm lights in many a secret chamber shineOf thy gaunt house, and gusts of song have blownLike blossoms out to me that sat alone!And I have waited well for thee to showIf any share were mine,—and now I go!Nothing I leave, and if I naught attainI shall but come into mine own again!"Thus I to Life, and ceased, and spake no more,But turning, straightway, sought a certain doorIn the rear wall. Heavy it was, and lowAnd dark,—a way by which none e'er would goThat other exit had, and never knockWas heard thereat,—bearing a curious lockSome chance had shown me fashioned faultily,Whereof Life held content the useless key,And great coarse hinges, thick and rough with rust,Whose sudden voice across a silence must,I knew, be harsh and horrible to hear,—A strange door, ugly like a dwarf.—So nearI came I felt upon my feet the chillOf acid wind creeping across the sill.So stood longtime, till over me at lastCame weariness, and all things other passedTo make it room; the still night drifted deepLike snow about me, and I longed for sleep.But, suddenly, marking the morning hour,Bayed the deep-throated bell within the tower!Startled, I raised my head,—and with a shoutLaid hold upon the latch,—and was without.*****Ah, long-forgotten, well-remembered road,Leading me back unto my old abode,My father's house! There in the night I came,And found them feasting, and all things the sameAs they had been before. A splendour hungUpon the walls, and such sweet songs were sungAs, echoing out of very long ago,Had called me from the house of Life, I know.So fair their raiment shone I looked in shameOn the unlovely garb in which I came;Then straightway at my hesitancy mocked:"It is my father's house!" I said and knocked;And the door opened. To the shining crowdTattered and dark I entered, like a cloud,Seeing no face but his; to him I crept,And "Father!" I cried, and clasped his knees, and wept.Ah, days of joy that followed! All aloneI wandered through the house. My own, my own,My own to touch, my own to taste and smell,All I had lacked so long and loved so well!None shook me out of sleep, nor hushed my song,Nor called me in from the sunlight all day long.I know not when the wonder came to meOf what my father's business might be,And whither fared and on what errands bentThe tall and gracious messengers he sent.Yet one day with no song from dawn till nightWondering, I sat, and watched them out of sight.And the next day I called; and on the thirdAsked them if I might go,—but no one heard.Then, sick with longing, I arose at lastAnd went unto my father,—in that vastChamber wherein he for so many yearsHas sat, surrounded by his charts and spheres."Father," I said, "Father, I cannot playThe harp that thou didst give me, and all dayI sit in idleness, while to and froAbout me thy serene, grave servants go;And I am weary of my lonely ease.Better a perilous journey overseasAway from thee, than this, the life I lead,To sit all day in the sunshine like a weedThat grows to naught,—I love thee more than theyWho serve thee most; yet serve thee in no way.Father, I beg of thee a little taskTo dignify my days,—'tis all I askForever, but forever, this denied,I perish.""Child," my father's voice replied,"All things thy fancy hath desired of meThou hast received. I have prepared for theeWithin my house a spacious chamber, whereAre delicate things to handle and to wear,And all these things are thine. Dost thou love song?My minstrels shall attend thee all day long.Or sigh for flowers? My fairest gardens standOpen as fields to thee on every hand.And all thy days this word shall hold the same:No pleasure shalt thou lack that thou shalt name.But as for tasks—" he smiled, and shook his head;"Thou hadst thy task, and laidst it by", he said.

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