A Memory

All this was long ago, but I do not forget
Our small white house, between the city and the farms;
The Venus, the Pomona,--I remember yet
How in the leaves they hid their chirping plaster charms;
And the majestic sun at evening, setting late,
Behind the pane that broke and scattered his bright rays,
How like an open eye he seemed to contemplate
Our long and silent dinners with a curious gaze:
The while his golden beams, like tapers burning there,
Made splendid the serge curtains and the simple fare.

Je n’ai pas oublié

Je n’ai pas oublié, voisine de la ville,
Notre blanche maison, petite mais traquille,
Sa Pomone de plâtre et sa vieille Vénus
Dans un bosquet chétif cachant leurs membres nus;
Et le soleil, le soir, ruisselant et superbe,
Qui, derrière la vitre où se brisait sa gerbe,
Semblait, grand œil ouvert dans le ciel curieux,
Contempler nos dîners longs et silencieux,
Répandant largement ses beaux reflets de cierge
Sur la nappe frugale et les rideaux de serge.

Translated by Edna St. Vincent Millay, from Flowers of Evil
©1936 by Edna St. Vincent Millay and Norma Millay Ellis
Reprinted by permission of The Permissions Company, Inc., on behalf of Holly Peppe, Literary Executor, The Millay Society,