Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
She Is Overheard SingingEdna St. Vincent Millay
O
And Joan a gentle lover,
And Agatha’s Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth—
But my true love’s a rover!
And honest as a briar;
Sue tells her love what he’s thinking of—
But my dear lad’s a liar!
Are thick with Mig and Joan—
They bite their threads and shake their heads,
And gnaw my name like a bone!
As never snaps me up;”
And Agatha, “Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth,
Could live content in a cup;”
All one color, and clear;
And Mig’s no call to think at all
What’s to come next year;
That’s troubled with that and this.
But they all would give the life they live
For a look from the man I kiss!
And few enough’s his choice—
Though he’d slip me clean for a nun or a queen,
Or a beggar with knots in her voice.
When her good man sleeps sound,
And Mig and Sue and Joan and Prue
Will hear the clock strike round.
As asks not when or why;
And Mig and Sue have naught to do
But peep who’s passing by;
That bastes and tastes and salts;
And Agatha’s Arth’ is a hug-the-hearth—
But my true love is false!