1 min read
Слушать(AI)Interior
Her mind lives in a quiet room,
A narrow room, and tall,
With pretty lamps to quench the gloom And mottoes on the wall.
There all the things are waxen neat And set in decorous lines;
And there are posies, round and sweet,
And little, straightened vines.
Her mind lives tidily, apart From cold and noise and pain,
And bolts the door against her heart,
Out wailing in the rain.
Dorothy Parker
Dorothy Parker (née Rothschild; August 22, 1893 – June 7, 1967) was an American poet, writer, critic, and satirist based in New York; she was be
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Pattern
Leave me to my lonely pillow Go, and take your silly Who has vowed to wear the Looks a fool, tricked out in roses
Lines On Reading Too Many Poets
Roses, rooted warm in earth, Bud in rhyme, another age; Lilies know a ghostly birth Strewn along a patterned page; Golden lad and chimbley sweep Die; and so their song shall keep Wind that in Arcadia starts In and out a couplet play...
The Dark Girls Rhyme
Who was there had seen us Wouldn't bid him run Heavy lay between us All our sires had done There he was, a-springing Of a pious race, Setting hags a-swinging In a market-place;
Sonnet On An Alpine Night
My hand, a little raised, might press a star-Where I may look, the frosted peaks are spun, So shaped before Olympus was begun, Spanned each to each, now, by a silver bar Thus to face Beauty have I traveled far,