by Edna St. Vincent Millay

For the sake of some things
   That be now no more
I will strew rushes
   On my chamber-floor,
I will plant bergamot
   At my kitchen-door.

For the sake of dim things
   That were once so plain
I will set a barrel
   Out to catch the rain,
I will hang an iron pot
   On an iron crane.

Many things be dead and gone
   That were brave and gay;
For the sake of these things
   I will learn to say,
"An it please you, gentle sirs,"
   "Alack!" and "Well-a-day!"

Monadnock Valley Press > Millay