1 min read
Слушать(AI)Fulfillment
For this my mother wrapped me warm,
And called me home against the storm,
And coaxed my infant nights to quiet,
And gave me roughage in my diet,
And tucked me in my bed at eight,
And clipped my hair, and marked my weight,
And watched me as I sat and stood:
That I might grow to
To hear a whistle and drop my
And break my heart to clattering bits.
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
Temps Perdu
I never may turn the loop of a road Where sudden, ahead, the sea is Iying, But my heart drags down with an ancient load- My heart, that a second before was flying I never behold the quivering rain- And sweeter the rain than a lover to me...
The Red Dress
I always saw, I always said If I were grown and free, I'd have a gown of reddest red As fine as you could see, To wear out walking, sleek and slow, Upon a Summer day,
But Not Forgotten
I think, no matter where you stray, That I shall go with you a way Though you may wander sweeter lands, You will not soon forget my hands,
Oscar Wilde
If, with the literate, I Impelled to try an epigram, I never seek to take the credit;
