Recuerdo — Summary

We were very tired, we were very merry-- We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry. It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable-- But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table, We lay on a hill-top underneath the moon; And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came soon.

We were very tired, we were very merry-- We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry; And you ate an apple, and I ate a pear, From a dozen of each we had bought somewhere; And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold, And the sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold.

We were very tired, we were very merry, We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry. We hailed, "Good morrow, mother!" to a shawl-covered head, And bought a morning paper, which neither of us read; And she wept, "God bless you!" for the apples and pears, And we gave her all our money but our subway fares.

Show the whole poemHide the poem

Learn Poems app

Try the Learn Poems app

Everything from the website trainer, and more: new exercises, voice recording and sharing, reminders, quick review.

The speaker remembers a sleepless night spent riding a ferry back and forth with someone she loves. They are exhausted but giddy—the kind of happiness that comes from staying up until dawn for no good reason. The setting is bare and bright, even smelling like a stable, but it feels enchanted because they are together, sharing apples and pears and watching the sunrise spill gold over the water. When they meet a poor woman wrapped in a shawl, their joy overflows into generosity: they give her all their money except subway fare, and she blesses them. The repeated lines keep a lilting, song-like rhythm that mirrors both their tiredness and their merriment. The mood is youthful, romantic, and a little reckless—a celebration of a simple, full moment worth remembering.

Read also

More by Edna St. Vincent Millay

All poems
ContemplativeEdna St. Vincent Millay

Eel-Grass

No matter what I say, All that I really love Is the rain that flattens on the bay, And the eel-grass in the cove;
CheerfulEdna St. Vincent Millay

Midnight Oil

Cut if you will, with Sleep's dull knife, Each day to half its length, my friend,-- The years that Time takes off my life, He'll take from off the other end!
SadEdna St. Vincent Millay

The Death of Autumn

When reeds are dead and a straw to thatch the marshes, And feathered pampas-grass rides into the wind Like aged warriors westward, tragic, thinned Of half their tribe, and over the flattened rushes,