Dorothy Parker

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,

Sleep, pretty lady, the night is enfolding you;
Drift, and so lightly, on crystalline streams
Wrapped in its perfumes, the darkness is holding you;
Starlight bespangles the way of your dreams

Should they whisper false of you
Never trouble to deny;
Should the words they say be true,  Weep and storm and swear they lie

Now it's over, and now it's done; Why does everything look the same
Just as bright, the unheeding sun, — Can't it see that the parting came
People hurry and work and swear, Laugh and grumble and die and wed, Ponder what they will eat and...

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;

Lilacs blossom just as
Now my heart is shattered
If I bowled it down the street,
Who's to say it mattered

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...