Listen, children:
     Your father is dead.
     From his old coats
     I'll make you little jackets;
     I'll make you little trousers
     From his old pants.
     There'll be in his pockets
     Things he used to put there,
     Keys and pennies
     Covered with tobacco;
     Dan shall have the pennies
     To save in his bank;
     Anne shall have the keys
     To make a pretty noise with.
     Life must go on,
     And the dead be forgotten;
     Life must go on,
     Though good men die;
     Anne, eat your breakfast;
     Dan, take your medicine;
     Life must go on;
     I forget just why.


facebook share button twitter share button google plus share button tumblr share button reddit share button email share button share on pinterest pinterest

Create a library and add your favorite stories. Get started by clicking the "Add" button.
Add LAMENT to your own personal library.

Return to the Edna St. Vincent Millay Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; LOW-TIDE

Anton Chekhov
Nathaniel Hawthorne
Susan Glaspell
Mark Twain
Edgar Allan Poe
Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
Herman Melville
Stephen Leacock
Kate Chopin
Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson