The Poetry Corner

Rosemary

By Edna St. Vincent Millay

For the sake of some things That be now no more I will strew rushes On my chamber-floor, I will plant bergamot At my kitchen-door. For the sake of dim things That were once so plain I will set a barrel Out to catch the rain, I will hang an iron pot On an iron crane. Many things be dead and gone That were brave and gay; For the sake of these things I will learn to say, "An it please you, gentle sirs," "Alack!" and "Well-a-day!"