Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems (New York and London: Harper, 1923): 17-18. 6th printing. PS 3525 I495H3 Robarts Library.
1It's little I care what path I take,
2And where it leads it's little I care;
3But out of this house, lest my heart break,
4I must go, and off somewhere.
5It's little I know what's in my heart,
6What's in my mind it's little I know,
7But there's that in me must up and start,
8And it's little I care where my feet go.
9I wish I could walk for a day and a night,
10And find me at dawn in a desolate place
11With never the rut of a road in sight,
12Nor the roof of a house, nor the eyes of a face.
13I wish I could walk till my blood should spout,
14And drop me, never to stir again,
15On a shore that is wide, for the tide is out,
16And the weedy rocks are bare to the rain.
17But dump or dock, where the path I take
18Brings up, it's little enough I care;
19And it's little I'd mind the fuss they'll make,
20Huddled dead in a ditch somewhere.
21 "Is something the matter, dear," she said,
22"That you sit at your work so silently?"
23"No, mother, no, 'twas a knot in my thread.
24 There goes the kettle, I'll make the tea."
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