Wednesday Is Poetry Day

In keeping with this week's grumpy Valentine's Day theme, i've selected the perfect sonnet from my favorite poet, Edna St. Vincent Millay.

If I should learn, in some quite casual way,
      That you were gone, not to return again—
Read from the back-page of a paper, say,
      Held by a neighbor in a subway train,
How at the corner of this avenue
      And such a street (so are the papers filled)
A hurrying man—who happened to be you—
      At noon to-day had happened to be killed,
I should not cry aloud—I could not cry
      Aloud, or wring my hands in such a place—
I should but watch the station lights rush by
      With a more careful interest on my face,
Or raise my eyes and read with greater care
Where to store furs and how to treat the hair.

Ouch. Edna could be a snarky bitch when she wanted to.

Which was often.