Edna St. Vincent Millay
She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
And her mouth on a valentine.
She has more hair than she needs;
In the sun 'tis a woe to me!
And her voice is a string of coloured beads,
Or steps leading into the sea.
She loves me all that she can,
And her ways to my ways resign;
But she was not made for any man,
And she never will be all mine.
Happy Valentine's Day! I'm writing to let you know how much your support has meant to the Poetry Society of America and to ask you to continue to show your love for poetry by renewing membership. Your current membership expires on February 28, 2016.
The support of our members is crucial to the creation of free, public, and engaging poetry events, the endurance of our signature initiative, Poetry in Motion®, which places poems on subways and buses around the country, our Chapbook Fellowship and Annual Awards, that honor poets at every stage of their careers, and the flourishing of our wonderful website, which draws over 40,000 monthly viewers with its marvelous features and articles.
Thank you so, so much for your past support. Please consider continuing to join us as we work to place poetry at the crossroads of American life.