Mary's World

I can't figure what else to post, so I'm going to put up one of my favorite poems.

A poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay, which had been written in honor of suffragist Inez Milholland, who died at age 30 while campaigning for womens' right to vote.

Upon this marble bust that is not I
Lay the round, formal wreath that is not fame;
But in the forum of my silenced cry
Root ye the living tree whose sap is flame.
I, that was proud and valiant, am no more -
Save as a dream that wanders wide and late,
Save as a wind that rattles the stout door,
Troubling the ashes in the sheltered grate.
The stone will perish; I shall be twice dust.
Only my standard on a taken hill
Can cheat the mildew and the red-brown rust
And make immortal my adventurous will.
Even now the silk is tugging at the staff;
Take up the song; forget the epitaph.