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I remembered reading a poem about going to places that you went to with your loved one and how painful it was, and also going to new places and how even more painful that was. I have tracked the poem down and it is by Edna St. Vincent Millay. I thought it might be meaningful to some of you as it is very much to me. I also include another poem by her. We read it at my brother's funeral two years ago. My Pete loved it but I didn't include it at his Farewell because we didn't have enough time for it.

Sonnet 02: Time Does Not Bring Relief; You All Have Lied

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied

Who told me time would ease me of my pain!

I miss him in the weeping of the rain;

I want him at the shrinking of the tide;

The old snows melt from every mountain-side,

And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;

But last year's bitter loving must remain

Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide

There are a hundred places where I fear

To go,—so with his memory they brim

And entering with relief some quiet place

Where never fell his foot or shone his face

I say, "There is no memory of him here!"

And so stand stricken, so remembering him.

Dirge Without Music

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.

So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:

Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned

With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.

Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.

A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,

A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the


They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses. Elegant and curled

Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know. But I do not


More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the


Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave

Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;

Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.

I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

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Oh, Jan...thank you for these poems, for sharing them here. They bring tears to my eyes as they touch my soul. There are so many places I go where memories of Bill are so abundant...and many places where we were that I dare not go. As for new places...another kind of pain rises up from deep within...especially those of beauty...of music we would have enjoyed...of so much...and no way to share any of those new places...thank you for sharing.



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Thank you for sharing. It holds so true as what Mary said. I at times feel guilty when I experience new places, knowing how Celene would have loved being there; then I have to believe she is as long as she is in my heart.


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