Edna St. Vincent Millay: Feast

I drank at every vine.
The last was like the first.
I came upon no wine
So wonderful as thirst.

I gnawed at every root.
I ate of every plant.
I came upon no fruit
So wonderful as want.

Feed the grape and bean
To the vintner and monger;
I will lie down lean
With my thirst and my hunger.

I haven't written about a poem yet, but I was recently reading a collection of poetry by Edna St. Vincent Millay and it was all so delectable, I wanted to write about it. Millay is a fabulous poet who wrote about love and life - sometime flippantly, sometimes dramatically, sometimes cynically. This poem is too self-explanatory for me to say much about it; I just think she's a brilliant writer who says simple things in her poetry that others don't often think to say. Also, she has a way of romanticizing a life of dissatisfaction and recklessness, without ignoring the negative aspects.

A few recomendations of beautiful poetry of hers:

Sad:
The Betrothal
Ebb
Ashes of Life
Spring
Time Does Not Bring Relief/Sonnet II

Optomistic:
To A Young Poet
First Fig
Second Fig
Recuerdo