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Jul. 29th, 2009 at 3:49 PM
There's little in taking or giving,
There's little in water or wine;
This living, this living, this living
Was never a project of mine.
Oh hard is the climb, and sparse is
The gain of the one at the top;
For art is a form of catharsis,
And love is a permanent flop,
And work is the province of cattle,
And rest's for a clam in a shell--
So I'm thinking of throwing the battle--
Would you kindly direct me to Hell?
(Dorothy Parker)
Comments
Two more? ;)
When I am old and comforted,
And done with this desire,
With Memory to share my bed
And Peace to share my fire,
I'll comb my hair in scalloped bands
Beneath my laundered cap,
And watch my cool and fragile hands
Lie light upon my lap.
And I shall have a sprigged gown
With lace to kiss my throat;
I'll draw my curtain to the town,
And hum a purring note.
And I'll forget the way of tears,
And rock, and stir my tea.
But oh, I wish those blessed years
Were further than they be!
*****
One Perfect Rose
A single flow'r he sent me when we met,
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet
One perfect rose.
I knew the language of the floweret--
"My scented leaves," it said, "his heart enclose."
Love long has taken for its amulet
One perfect rose.
Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.
(Dorothy Parker)
Re: Two more? ;)
I liked those too!
Re: Two more? ;)