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Title: Enough rope: poems
Author: Dorothy Parker
Release date: June 20, 2022 [eBook #68353]
Most recently updated: October 18, 2024
Language: English
Original publication: United States: Boni & Liveright, 1926
Credits: Laura Natal Rodrigues (Images generously made available by Hathi Trust Digital Library.)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENOUGH ROPE: POEMS ***
ENOUGH ROPE
Poems by
DOROTHY PARKER
NEW YORK
BONI & LIVERIGHT
1926
Copyright, 1926, by
BONI AND LIVERIGHT, INC.
All Rights of Reproduction Reserved
First printing, December, 1926
Second printing, January, 1927
Third printing, February, 1927
Fourth printing, March, 1927
Fifth printing, April, 1927
Sixth printing, May, 1927
Seventh printing, July, 1927
Eighth printing, September, 1927
Ninth printing, October, 1927
Tenth printing, December, 1927
Eleventh printing, February, 1928
Twelfth printing, April, 1928
Thirteenth printing, July, 1928
To
ELINOR WYLIE
The verses in this book were first printed in Life, Vanity Fair, The New Yorker, and The New York World.
CONTENTS
PART ONE
THRENODY
THE SMALL HOURS
THE FALSE FRIENDS
THE TRIFLER
A VERY SHORT SONG
A WELL-WORN STORY
CONVALESCENT
THE DARK GIRL'S RHYME
EPITAPH
LIGHT OF LOVE
WAIL
THE SATIN DRESS
SOMEBODY'S SONG
ANECDOTE
BRAGGART
EPITAPH FOR A DARLING LADY
TO A MUCH TOO UNFORTUNATE LADY
PATHS
HEARTHSIDE
THE NEW LOVE
RAINY NIGHT
FOR A SAD LADY
RECURRENCE
STORY OF MRS. W—
THE DRAMATISTS
AUGUST
THE WHITE LADY
I KNOW I HAVE BEEN HAPPIEST
TESTAMENT
"I SHALL COME BACK"
CONDOLENCE
THE IMMORTALS
A PORTRAIT
PART TWO
PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST
CHANT FOR DARK HOURS
UNFORTUNATE COINCIDENCE
VERSE REPORTING LATE ARRIVAL AT A CONCLUSION
INVENTORY
NOW AT LIBERTY
COMMENT
PLEA
PATTERN
DE PROFUNDIS
THEY PART
BALLADE OF A GREAT WEARINESS
RÉSUMÉ
RENUNCIATION
DAY-DREAMS
THE VETERAN
PROPHETIC SOUL
VERSE FOR A CERTAIN DOG
FOLK TUNE
GODSPEED
SONG OF PERFECT PROPRIETY
SOCIAL NOTE
ONE PERFECT ROSE
BALLADE AT THIRTY-FIVE
THE THIN EDGE
SPRING SONG
LOVE SONG
INDIAN SUMMER
PHILOSOPHY
FOR AN UNKNOWN LADY
THE LEAL
FINIS
WORDS OF COMFORT TO BE SCRATCHED ON A MIRROR
MEN
NEWS ITEM
SONG OF ONE OF THE GIRLS
LULLABY
FAUT DE MIEUX
ROUNDEL
A CERTAIN LADY
OBSERVATION
SYMPTOM RECITAL
FIGHTING WORDS
RONDEAU REDOUBLÉ
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
THE CHOICE
BALLADE OF BIG PLANS
GENERAL REVIEW OF THE SEX SITUATION
INSCRIPTION FOR THE CEILING OF A BEDROOM
PICTURES IN THE SMOKE
BIOGRAPHIES
NOCTURNE
INTERVIEW
SONG IN A MINOR KEY
EXPERIENCE
NEITHER BLOODY NOR BOWED
THE BURNED CHILD
PART ONE
Threnody
Lilacs blossom just as sweet
Now my heart is shattered.
If I bowled it down the street,
Who's to say it mattered?
If there's one that rode away
What would I be missing?
Lips that taste of tears, they say,
Are the best for kissing.
Now my heart is shattered.
If I bowled it down the street,
Who's to say it mattered?
If there's one that rode away
What would I be missing?
Lips that taste of tears, they say,
Are the best for kissing.
Eyes that watch the morning star
Seem a little brighter;
Arms held out to darkness are
Usually whiter.
Shall I bar the strolling guest,
Bind my brow with willow,
When, they say, the empty breast
Is the softer pillow?
Seem a little brighter;
Arms held out to darkness are
Usually whiter.
Shall I bar the strolling guest,
Bind my brow with willow,
When, they say, the empty breast
Is the softer pillow?
That a heart falls tinkling down,
Never think it ceases.
Every likely lad in town
Gathers up the pieces.
If there's one gone whistling by
Would I let it grieve me?
Let him wonder if I lie;
Let him half believe me.
Never think it ceases.
Every likely lad in town
Gathers up the pieces.
If there's one gone whistling by
Would I let it grieve me?
Let him wonder if I lie;
Let him half believe me.
The Small Hours
No more my little song comes back;
And now of nights I lay
My head on down, to watch the black
And wait the unfailing gray.
And now of nights I lay
My head on down, to watch the black
And wait the unfailing gray.
Oh, sad are winter nights, and slow;
And sad's a song that's dumb;
And sad it is to lie and know
Another dawn will come.
And sad's a song that's dumb;
And sad it is to lie and know
Another dawn will come.
The False Friends
They laid their hands upon my head,
They stroked my cheek and brow;
And time could heal a hurt, they said,
And time could dim a vow.
They stroked my cheek and brow;
And time could heal a hurt, they said,
And time could dim a vow.
And they were pitiful and mild
Who whispered to me then,
"The heart that breaks in April, child,
Will mend in May again."
Who whispered to me then,
"The heart that breaks in April, child,
Will mend in May again."
Oh, many a mended heart they knew,
So old they were, and wise.
And little did they have to do
To come to me with lies!
So old they were, and wise.
And little did they have to do
To come to me with lies!
Who flings me silly talk of May
Shall meet a bitter soul;
For June was nearly spent away
Before my heart was whole.
Shall meet a bitter soul;
For June was nearly spent away
Before my heart was whole.
The Trifler
Death's the lover that I'd be taking;
Wild and fickle and fierce is he.
Small's his care if my heart be breaking—
Gay young Death would have none of me.
Wild and fickle and fierce is he.
Small's his care if my heart be breaking—
Gay young Death would have none of me.
Hear them clack of my haste to greet him!
No one other my mouth had kissed.
I had dressed me in silk to meet him—
False young Death would not hold the tryst.
No one other my mouth had kissed.
I had dressed me in silk to meet him—
False young Death would not hold the tryst.
Slow's the blood that was quick and stormy,
Smooth and cold is the bridal bed;
I must wait till he whistles for me—
Proud young Death would not turn his head.
Smooth and cold is the bridal bed;
I must wait till he whistles for me—
Proud young Death would not turn his head.
I must wait till my breast is wilted,
I must wait till my back is bowed,
I must rock in the corner, jilted,—
Death went galloping down the road.
I must wait till my back is bowed,
I must rock in the corner, jilted,—
Death went galloping down the road.
Gone's my heart with a trifling rover.
Fine he was in the game he played—
Kissed, and promised, and threw me over,
And rode away with a prettier maid.
Fine he was in the game he played—
Kissed, and promised, and threw me over,
And rode away with a prettier maid.
A Very Short Song
Once when I was young and true,
Someone left me sad—
Broke my brittle heart in two;
And that is very bad.
Someone left me sad—
Broke my brittle heart in two;
And that is very bad.
Love is for unlucky folk,
Love is but a curse.
Once there was a heart I broke;
And that, I think, is worse.
Love is but a curse.
Once there was a heart I broke;
And that, I think, is worse.
A Well-Worn Story
In April, in April,
My one love came along,
And I ran the slope of my high hill
To follow a thread of song.
My one love came along,
And I ran the slope of my high hill
To follow a thread of song.
His eyes were hard as porphyry
With looking on cruel lands;
His voice went slipping over me
Like terrible silver hands.
With looking on cruel lands;
His voice went slipping over me
Like terrible silver hands.
Together we trod the secret lane
And walked the muttering town.
I wore my heart like a wet, red stain
On the breast of a velvet gown.
And walked the muttering town.
I wore my heart like a wet, red stain
On the breast of a velvet gown.
In April, in April,
My love went whistling by,
And I stumbled here to my high hill
Along the way of a lie.
My love went whistling by,
And I stumbled here to my high hill
Along the way of a lie.
Now what should I do in this place
But sit and count the chimes,
And splash cold water on my face
And spoil a page with rhymes?
But sit and count the chimes,
And splash cold water on my face
And spoil a page with rhymes?
Convalescent
How shall I wail, that wasn't meant for weeping?
Love has run and left me, oh, what then?
Dream, then, I must, who never can be sleeping;
What if I should meet Love, once again?
Love has run and left me, oh, what then?
Dream, then, I must, who never can be sleeping;
What if I should meet Love, once again?
What if I met him, walking on the highway?
Let him see how lightly I should care.
He'd travel his way, I would follow my way;
Hum a little song, and pass him there.
Let him see how lightly I should care.
He'd travel his way, I would follow my way;
Hum a little song, and pass him there.
What if at night, beneath a sky of ashes,
He should seek my doorstep, pale with need?
There could he lie, and dry would be my lashes;
Let him stop his noise, and let me read.
He should seek my doorstep, pale with need?
There could he lie, and dry would be my lashes;
Let him stop his noise, and let me read.
Oh, but I'm gay, that's better off without him;
Would he'd come and see me, laughing here.
Lord! Don't I know I'd have my arms about him,
Crying to him, "Oh, come in, my dear!"
Would he'd come and see me, laughing here.
Lord! Don't I know I'd have my arms about him,
Crying to him, "Oh, come in, my dear!"
The Dark Girl's Rhyme
Who was there had seen us
Wouldn't bid him run?
Heavy lay between us
All our sires had done.
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;
Of a pious race—
Setting hags a-swinging
In a market-place;
Sowing turnips over
Where the poppies lay;
Looking past the clover,
Adding up the hay;
Where the poppies lay;
Looking past the clover,
Adding up the hay;
Shouting through the Spring song,
Clumping down the sod;
Toadying, in sing-song,
To a crabbèd god.
Clumping down the sod;
Toadying, in sing-song,
To a crabbèd god.
There I was, that came of
Folk of mud and flame—
I that had my name of
Them without a name.
Folk of mud and flame—
I that had my name of
Them without a name.
Up and down a mountain
Streeled my silly stock;
Passing by a fountain,
Wringing at a rock;
Streeled my silly stock;
Passing by a fountain,
Wringing at a rock;
Devil-gotten sinners,
Throwing back their heads;
Fiddling for their dinners,
Kissing for their beds.
Throwing back their heads;
Fiddling for their dinners,
Kissing for their beds.
Not a one had seen us
Wouldn't help him flee.
Angry ran between us
Blood of him and me.
Wouldn't help him flee.
Angry ran between us
Blood of him and me.
How shall I be mating
Who have looked above—
Living for a hating,
Dying of a love?
Who have looked above—
Living for a hating,
Dying of a love?
Epitaph
The first time I died, I walked my ways;
I followed the file of limping days.
I followed the file of limping days.
I held me tall, with my head flung up,
But I dared not look on the new moon's cup.
But I dared not look on the new moon's cup.
I dared not look on the sweet young rain,
And between my ribs was a gleaming pain.
And between my ribs was a gleaming pain.
The next time I died, they laid me deep.
They spoke worn words to hallow my sleep.
They spoke worn words to hallow my sleep.
They tossed me petals, they wreathed me fern,
They weighted me down with a marble urn.
They weighted me down with a marble urn.
And I lie here warm, and I lie here dry,
And watch the worms slip by, slip by.
And watch the worms slip by, slip by.
Light of Love
Joy stayed with me a night—
Young and free and fair—
And in the morning light
He left me there.
Young and free and fair—
And in the morning light
He left me there.
Then Sorrow came to stay,
And lay upon my breast;
He walked with me in the day,
And knew me best.
And lay upon my breast;
He walked with me in the day,
And knew me best.
I'll never be a bride,
Nor yet celibate,
So I'm living now with Pride—
A cold bedmate.
Nor yet celibate,
So I'm living now with Pride—
A cold bedmate.
He must not hear nor see,
Nor could he forgive
That Sorrow still visits me
Each day I live.
Nor could he forgive
That Sorrow still visits me
Each day I live.
Wail
Love has gone a-rocketing.
That is not the worst;
I could do without the thing,
And not be the first.
That is not the worst;
I could do without the thing,
And not be the first.
Joy has gone the way it came.
That is nothing new;
I could get along the same,—
Many people do.
That is nothing new;
I could get along the same,—
Many people do.
Dig for me the narrow bed,
Now I am bereft.
All my pretty hates are dead,
And what have I left?
Now I am bereft.
All my pretty hates are dead,
And what have I left?
The Satin Dress
Needle, needle, dip and dart,
Thrusting up and down,
Where's the man could ease a heart
Like a satin gown?
Thrusting up and down,
Where's the man could ease a heart
Like a satin gown?
See the stitches curve and crawl
Round the cunning seams—
Patterns thin and sweet and small
As a lady's dreams.
Round the cunning seams—
Patterns thin and sweet and small
As a lady's dreams.
Wantons go in bright brocades;
Brides in organdie;
Gingham's for the plighted maid;
Satin's for the free!
Brides in organdie;
Gingham's for the plighted maid;
Satin's for the free!
Wool's to line a miser's chest;
Crape's to calm the old;
Velvet hides an empty breast;
Satin's for the bold!
Crape's to calm the old;
Velvet hides an empty breast;
Satin's for the bold!
Lawn is for a bishop's yoke;
Linen's for a nun;
Satin is for wiser folk—
Would the dress were done!
Linen's for a nun;
Satin is for wiser folk—
Would the dress were done!
Satin glows in candle-light—
Satin's for the proud!
They will say who watch at night,
"What a fine shroud!"
Satin's for the proud!
They will say who watch at night,
"What a fine shroud!"
Somebody's Song
This is what I vow;
He shall have my heart to keep;
Sweetly will we stir and sleep,
All the years, as now.
Swift the measured sands may run;
Love like this is never done;
He and I are welded one:
This is what I vow.
He shall have my heart to keep;
Sweetly will we stir and sleep,
All the years, as now.
Swift the measured sands may run;
Love like this is never done;
He and I are welded one:
This is what I vow.
This is what I pray:
Keep him by me tenderly;
Keep him sweet in pride of me,
Ever and a day;
Keep me from the old distress;
Let me, for our happiness,
Be the one to love the less:
This is what I pray.
Keep him by me tenderly;
Keep him sweet in pride of me,
Ever and a day;
Keep me from the old distress;
Let me, for our happiness,
Be the one to love the less:
This is what I pray.
This is what I know:
Lovers' oaths are thin as rain;
Love's a harbinger of pain—
Would it were not so!
Ever is my heart a-thirst,
Ever is my love accurst;
He is neither last nor first—
This is what I know.
Lovers' oaths are thin as rain;
Love's a harbinger of pain—
Would it were not so!
Ever is my heart a-thirst,
Ever is my love accurst;
He is neither last nor first—
This is what I know.
Anecdote
So silent I when Love was by
He yawned, and turned away;
But Sorrow clings to my apron-strings,
I have so much to say.
He yawned, and turned away;
But Sorrow clings to my apron-strings,
I have so much to say.
Braggart
The days will rally, wreathing
Their crazy tarantelle;
And you must go on breathing,
But I'll be safe in hell.
Their crazy tarantelle;
And you must go on breathing,
But I'll be safe in hell.
Like January weather,
The years will bite and smart,
And pull your bones together
To wrap your chattering heart.
The years will bite and smart,
And pull your bones together
To wrap your chattering heart.
The pretty stuff you're made of
Will crack and crease and dry.
The thing you are afraid of
Will look from every eye.
Will crack and crease and dry.
The thing you are afraid of
Will look from every eye.
You will go faltering after
The bright, imperious line,
And split your throat on laughter,
And burn your eyes with brine.
The bright, imperious line,
And split your throat on laughter,
And burn your eyes with brine.
You will be frail and musty
With peering, furtive head,
Whilst I am young and lusty
Among the roaring dead.
With peering, furtive head,
Whilst I am young and lusty
Among the roaring dead.
Epitaph for a Darling Lady
All her hours were yellow sands,
Blown in foolish whorls and tassels;
Slipping warmly through her hands;
Patted into little castles.
Blown in foolish whorls and tassels;
Slipping warmly through her hands;
Patted into little castles.
Shiny day on shiny day
Tumble in a rainbow clutter,
As she flipped them all away,
Sent them spinning down the gutter.
Tumble in a rainbow clutter,
As she flipped them all away,
Sent them spinning down the gutter.
Leave for her a red young rose,
Go your way, and save your pity;
She is happy, for she knows
That her dust is very pretty.
Go your way, and save your pity;
She is happy, for she knows
That her dust is very pretty.
To a Much Too Unfortunate Lady
He will love you presently
If you be the way you be.
Send your heart a-skittering,
He will stoop, and lift the thing.
Be your dreams as thread, to tease
Into patterns he shall please.
Let him see your passion is
Ever tenderer than his....
Go and bless your star above,
Thus are you, and thus is Love.
If you be the way you be.
Send your heart a-skittering,
He will stoop, and lift the thing.
Be your dreams as thread, to tease
Into patterns he shall please.
Let him see your passion is
Ever tenderer than his....
Go and bless your star above,
Thus are you, and thus is Love.
He will leave you white with woe,
If you go the way you go.
If your dreams were thread to weave,
He will pluck them from his sleeve.
If your heart had come to rest,
He will flick it from his breast.
Tender though the love he bore,
You had loved a little more....
Lady, go and curse your star,
Thus Love is, and thus you are.
If you go the way you go.
If your dreams were thread to weave,
He will pluck them from his sleeve.
If your heart had come to rest,
He will flick it from his breast.
Tender though the love he bore,
You had loved a little more....
Lady, go and curse your star,
Thus Love is, and thus you are.
Paths
I shall tread, another year,
Ways I walked with Grief,
Past the dry, ungarnered ear
And the brittle leaf.
Ways I walked with Grief,
Past the dry, ungarnered ear
And the brittle leaf.
I shall stand, a year apart,
Wondering, and shy,
Thinking, "Here she broke her heart;
Here she pled to die."
Wondering, and shy,
Thinking, "Here she broke her heart;
Here she pled to die."
I shall hear the pheasants call,
And the raucous geese;
Down these ways, another Fall,
I shall walk with Peace.
And the raucous geese;
Down these ways, another Fall,
I shall walk with Peace.
But the pretty path I trod
Hand-in-hand with Love,—
Underfoot, the nascent sod,
Brave young boughs above,
Hand-in-hand with Love,—
Underfoot, the nascent sod,
Brave young boughs above,
And the stripes of ribbon grass
By the curling way,—
I shall never dare to pass
To my dying day.
By the curling way,—
I shall never dare to pass
To my dying day.
Hearthside
Half across the world from me
Lie the lands I'll never see—
I, whose longing lives and dies
Where a ship has sailed away;
I, that never close my eyes
But to look upon Cathay.
Lie the lands I'll never see—
I, whose longing lives and dies
Where a ship has sailed away;
I, that never close my eyes
But to look upon Cathay.
Things I may not know nor tell
Wait, where older waters swell;
Ways that flowered at Sappho's tread,
Winds that sighed in Homer's strings,
Vibrant with the singing dead,
Golden with the dust of wings.
Wait, where older waters swell;
Ways that flowered at Sappho's tread,
Winds that sighed in Homer's strings,
Vibrant with the singing dead,
Golden with the dust of wings.
Under deeper skies than mine,
Quiet valleys dip and shine.
Where their tender grasses heal
Ancient scars of trench and tomb
I shall never walk; nor kneel
Where the bones of poets bloom.
Quiet valleys dip and shine.
Where their tender grasses heal
Ancient scars of trench and tomb
I shall never walk; nor kneel
Where the bones of poets bloom.
If I seek a lovelier part,
Where I travel goes my heart;
Where I stray my thought must go;
With me wanders my desire.
Best to sit and watch the snow,
Turn the lock, and poke the fire.
Where I travel goes my heart;
Where I stray my thought must go;
With me wanders my desire.
Best to sit and watch the snow,
Turn the lock, and poke the fire.
The New Love
If it shine or if it rain,
Little will I care or know.
Days, like drops upon a pane,
Slip, and join, and go.
Little will I care or know.
Days, like drops upon a pane,
Slip, and join, and go.
At my door's another lad;
Here's his flower in my hair.
If he see me pale and sad,
Will he see me fair?
Here's his flower in my hair.
If he see me pale and sad,
Will he see me fair?
I sit looking at the floor.
Little will I think or say
If he seek another door;
Even if he stay.
Little will I think or say
If he seek another door;
Even if he stay.
Rainy Night
Ghosts of all my lovely sins,
Who attend too well my pillow,
Gay the wanton rain begins;
Hide the limp and tearful willow,
Who attend too well my pillow,
Gay the wanton rain begins;
Hide the limp and tearful willow,
Turn aside your eyes and ears,
Trail away your robes of sorrow.
You shall have my further years,—
You shall walk with me to-morrow.
Trail away your robes of sorrow.
You shall have my further years,—
You shall walk with me to-morrow.
I am sister to the rain;
Fey and sudden and unholy,
Petulant at the windowpane,
Quickly lost, remembered slowly.
Fey and sudden and unholy,
Petulant at the windowpane,
Quickly lost, remembered slowly.
I have lived with shades, a shade;
I am hung with graveyard flowers.
Let me be to-night arrayed
In the silver of the showers.
I am hung with graveyard flowers.
Let me be to-night arrayed
In the silver of the showers.
Every fragile thing shall rust;
When another April passes
I may be a furry dust,
Sifting through the brittle grasses.
When another April passes
I may be a furry dust,
Sifting through the brittle grasses.
All sweet sins shall be forgot
Who will live to tell their siring?
Hear me now, nor let me rot
Wistful still, and still aspiring.
Who will live to tell their siring?
Hear me now, nor let me rot
Wistful still, and still aspiring.
Ghosts of dear temptations, heed;
I am frail, be you forgiving.
See you not that I have need
To be living with the living?
I am frail, be you forgiving.
See you not that I have need
To be living with the living?
Sail, to-night, the Styx's breast;
Glide among the dim processions
Of the exquisite unblest.
Spirits of my shared transgressions.
Glide among the dim processions
Of the exquisite unblest.
Spirits of my shared transgressions.
Roam with young Persephone,
Plucking poppies for your slumber...
With the morrow, there shall be
One more wraith among your number.
Plucking poppies for your slumber...
With the morrow, there shall be
One more wraith among your number.
For a Sad Lady
And let her loves, when she is dead,
Write this above her bones:
"No more she lives to give us bread
Who asked her only stones."
Write this above her bones:
"No more she lives to give us bread
Who asked her only stones."
Recurrence
We shall have our little day.
Take my hand and travel still
Round and round the little way,
Up and down the little hill.
Take my hand and travel still
Round and round the little way,
Up and down the little hill.
It is good to love again;
Scan the renovated skies,
Dip and drive the idling pen,
Sweetly tint the paling lies.
Trace the dripping, piercèd heart,
Speak the fair, insistent verse,
Vow to God, and slip apart,
Little better, little worse.
Scan the renovated skies,
Dip and drive the idling pen,
Sweetly tint the paling lies.
Trace the dripping, piercèd heart,
Speak the fair, insistent verse,
Vow to God, and slip apart,
Little better, little worse.
Would we need not know before
How shall end this prettiness;
One of us must love the more,
One of us shall love the less.
How shall end this prettiness;
One of us must love the more,
One of us shall love the less.
Thus it is, and so it goes;
We shall have our day, my dear.
Where, unwilling, dies the rose
Buds the new, another year.
We shall have our day, my dear.
Where, unwilling, dies the rose
Buds the new, another year.
Story of Mrs. W——
My garden blossoms pink and white,
A place of decorous murmuring
Where I am safe from August night
And cannot feel the knife of spring.
A place of decorous murmuring
Where I am safe from August night
And cannot feel the knife of spring.
And I may walk the pretty place
Before the curtsying hollyhocks
And laundered daisies, round of face—
Good little girls, in party frocks.
Before the curtsying hollyhocks
And laundered daisies, round of face—
Good little girls, in party frocks.
My trees are amiably arrayed
In pattern on the dappled sky,
And I may sit in filtered shade
And watch the tidy years go by.
In pattern on the dappled sky,
And I may sit in filtered shade
And watch the tidy years go by.
And I may amble pleasantly
And hear my neighbors list their bones
And click my tongue in sympathy,
And count the cracks in paving stones.
And hear my neighbors list their bones
And click my tongue in sympathy,
And count the cracks in paving stones.
My door is grave in oaken strength,
The cool of linen calms my bed,
And there at night I stretch my length
And envy no one but the dead.
The cool of linen calms my bed,
And there at night I stretch my length
And envy no one but the dead.
The Dramatists
A string of shiny days we had,
A spotless sky, a yellow sun;
And neither you nor I was sad
When that was through and done.
A spotless sky, a yellow sun;
And neither you nor I was sad
When that was through and done.
But when, one day, a boy comes by
And pleads me with your happiest vow,
"There was a lad I knew—" I'll sigh;
"I do not know him now."
And pleads me with your happiest vow,
"There was a lad I knew—" I'll sigh;
"I do not know him now."
And when another girl shall pass
And speak a little name I said,
Then you will say "There was a lass—
I wonder is she dead."
And speak a little name I said,
Then you will say "There was a lass—
I wonder is she dead."
And each of us will sigh, and start
A-talking of a faded year,
And lay a hand above a heart,
And dry a pretty tear.
A-talking of a faded year,
And lay a hand above a heart,
And dry a pretty tear.