"I, Being born a Woman and Distressed" is a sonnet written by Pulitzer Prize-winning poet and playwright Edna St. Vincent Millay. Millay published "I, Being born a Woman and Distressed" in her collection The Harp-Weaver, and Other Poems in 1923. In the poem, Millay separates lust from rationality and, even, affection. Lust, Millay's speaker makes clear, can exist without either—a rather radical opinion for a female writer to take at the time. Although the poem is written using a classic form, its frank portrayal of lust and women's sexuality subverts many traditional expectations for sonnets as well as for depictions of women.
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1I, being born a woman and distressed
2By all the needs and notions of my kind,
3Am urged by your propinquity to find
4Your person fair, and feel a certain zest
5To bear your body’s weight upon my breast:
6So subtly is the fume of life designed,
7To clarify the pulse and cloud the mind,
8And leave me once again undone, possessed.
9Think not for this, however, the poor treason
10Of my stout blood against my staggering brain,
11I shall remember you with love, or season
12My scorn with pity,—let me make it plain:
13I find this frenzy insufficient reason
14For conversation when we meet again.
1I, being born a woman and distressed
2By all the needs and notions of my kind,
3Am urged by your propinquity to find
4Your person fair, and feel a certain zest
5To bear your body’s weight upon my breast:
6So subtly is the fume of life designed,
7To clarify the pulse and cloud the mind,
8And leave me once again undone, possessed.
9Think not for this, however, the poor treason
10Of my stout blood against my staggering brain,
11I shall remember you with love, or season
12My scorn with pity,—let me make it plain:
13I find this frenzy insufficient reason
14For conversation when we meet again.
I, being born a woman and distressed
By all the needs and notions of my kind,
Am urged by your propinquity to find
Your person fair,
and feel a certain zest
To bear your body’s weight upon my breast:
So subtly is the fume of life designed,
To clarify the pulse and cloud the mind,
And leave me once again undone, possessed.
Think not for this, however, the poor treason
Of my stout blood against my staggering brain,
I shall remember you with love, or season
My scorn with pity,—
let me make it plain:
I find this frenzy insufficient reason
For conversation when we meet again.
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
Italian Sonnets — Learn more about the form Millay uses in this poem: the Italian, a.k.a. Petrarchan, sonnet.
The Poem Out Loud — Listen to a reading of the poem.
The Poem to Music — Listen to the poem sung aloud in this musical adaptation.
Millay at Steepletop — Watch the trailer for the documentary "Millay at Steepletop."
Photographing the Poet — Watch a lecture on photographic representations of Millay and the poet's relationship with her public image.