Poem: Love is Not All

Love is Not All

by Edna St Vincent Millay

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;

Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.

It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution’s power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would.



  1. [this is good] Thank you for posting this. 

  2. Nice to hear from you, Venus!

    It is indeed a nice poem. I had written it out in longhand in my diary, which I’ve been reading through this afternoon and reliving some of my not-so-distant past.