The Millay Society at Steepletop

A bad experience in junior high school with Miriam Gurko’s 1962 biography of Millay, Restless Spirit, turned Stuart Endick away from the poet. "Decades later I happened across ‘Renascence’ in an anthology and was blown away, he writes. He became a collector of Millay’s work and a Steepletop visitor. As for the Gurko biography? He’s read it and declares that it sparks joy. Share your Millay collection with us at https://kslink.me/f/41551493/afa5/... #showusyourmillay #millaycollection #EdnaStVincentMillay #poetry #artmatters

In 2007 Bruce Trinkley set five Millay poems to music: "First Fig," (the first page shown here), "Second Fig," "Elegy Before Death," "Lament" and "Winter Night." Thanks for showing us Your Millay, Bruce! Show us YOUR Millay by sharing at https://kslink.me/f/41551493/afa5/... #showusyourmillay #millaycollection #EdnaStVincentMillay #poetry #artmatters

Michelle Panasiuk writes that when she was in college her daily walk to class took her past the most amazing used bookstorelots of little rooms and hallways stuffed with books and an old wooden display case full of rarities. It was here that I became a fan of Millay’s work. While the store is gone, Michelle still enjoys the books she bought there. Share your Millay collection with us at https://kslink.me/f/41551493/afa5/... #ednastvincentmillay #poetry #millaycollection #showusyourmillay #artmatters

Spring To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the redness... Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know. The sun is hot on my neck as I observe The spikes of the crocus. The smell of the earth is good. It is apparent that there is no death. But what does that signify? Not only under ground are the brains of men Eaten by maggots. Life in itself Is nothing, An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, April Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers. - Edna St. Vincent Millay - 1892-1950

Katie Barbato, Philadelphia folksinger and the artist behind "The Millay Tapes," has shown us her #millaycollection! In it, she tells us that she has "Poetry books from the Kingston Hill Book store in RI, a Millay puzzle, a record of Millay reading her works, an autographed copy of A Girl Called Vincent, a Millay-signed copy of The King’s Henchman, pressed flowers and herbs from Steepletop, and sea shells." (The poet would approve, Katie Barbato, since she also collected sea shells!) Want to #showusyourmillay, too? Please do so here: https://kslink.me/f/41551493/afa5/ #ednastvincentmillay #poetry #artmatters #Millay

President's Year-End Message - https://mailchi.mp/millay/your-help-is-needed-4674400

The #MillayPoetryChallenge continues! Thank you, Sasha Volokh, for sharing your recitation of "Dirge Without Music." We hope you'll be inspired to share with us your interpretation of a poem of MIllay's at bit.ly/Poetry_Challenge Or simply share with your social community and tag us, #MillaySociety, in your post. #poetry #wordsmatter #pulitzer #EdnaStVincentMillay #artisgoodforthesoul #poetrylives ... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZ7OqXv9h3o

Dear Friends, On the cusp of a Thanksgiving like no other, we’re grateful for all of you and your ongoing support. And we’re thinking of Millay’s poem Thanksgiving 1950, which was commissioned by The Saturday Evening Post for their November issue that year. Millay never saw it published, as she died the month before at Steepletop. The poem resonates strongly for us today--especially the last four hopeful lines. Hard, hard it is, this anxious autumn,... To lift the heavy mind from its dark forebodings; To sit at the bright feast, and with ruddy cheer Give thanks for the harvest of a troubled year. The clouds move and shift, withdraw to new positions on the hills; The sky above us is a thinning hazea patch of blue appears We yearn toward the blue sky as toward the healing of all our ills; But the storm has not gone over; the clouds come back; The blue sky turns black; And the muttering thunder suddenly crashes close, and once again Flashes of lightening startle the rattling windowpane; Then once more pours and splashes down the cold, discouraging rain. Ah, but is it right to feast in a time so solemn? Should we not, rather, feastand give the day to prayer? Prayer, yes; but fasting, no. Soldier and citizen alike, we are a marching column, And how long the march may be, and over what terrain We do not know; Nor how much hardship, and hunger, how much of pain We may be called upon to endure. And fortitude Takes muscle; and needs food. Never more dear than in a thoughtful hour like this Are the faces about the table: each stands out More sharply than before, and is looked at with a longer glance. And smiles are deep, from behind the eyes, and somewhat quizzical, Lest they go too far in tenderness. God bless the harvest of this haggard year; Pity our hearts, that did so long for Peace; Deal with us kindly: there are many here Who love their fellow man (and may their tribe increase). But cunning and guile persist; ferocity empowers The lifted arm of the aggressor: the times are bad. Let us give thanks for the courage that was always ours; And pray for the wisdom which we never had. This is nothing newthat we should be attacked While we are napping: is it not always so? And, dazed and unprepared, start up to act, Rubbing our eyes, not knowing where to go? Yet the trained hand does not forget its skill; Nor can we lay precision and speed aside: Strength we have, and courage; an acetylene will; A timorous vigilance; but a brave pride. From the apprehensive present, from a future packed With unknown dangers, monstrous, terrible and new Let us turn for comfort to this simple fact: We have been in trouble before . . . and we came through. See more

Oh yes, friends, Millay's candle most certainly burned at both ends. Many thanks to William P. Perry for the lovely piece on our favorite poet! https://theberkshireedge.com/anyone-for-tennyson-edna-st-v/

Over on Twitter, our friend Carmel Dean tagged us in this post honoring Millay's life. What a beautiful composition. We wanted to share it here too! "Edna St Vincent Millay (2/22/1892-10/19/1950). 70 years ago today we lost a brilliant poet. May we always remember and celebrate this bold and brave artist. @MillaySociety... Enjoy Exiled from the musical Renascence. Poem by Millay, music by moi." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ldh9Mti2iOc