Dorothy Parker Poems

Too long and quickly have I lived to vow
The woe that stretches me shall never wane,
Too often seen the end of endless pain
To swear that peace no more shall cool my brow.
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Oh, I should like to ride the seas,
A roaring buccaneer;
A cutlass banging at my knees,
A dirk behind my ear.
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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.
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Helen of Troy had a wandering glance;
Sappho's restriction was only the sky;
Ninon was ever the chatter of France;
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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,
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Never love a simple lad,
Guard against a wise,
Shun a timid youth and sad,
Hide from haunted eyes.
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I. The Minor Poet

His little trills and chirpings were his best.
No music like the nightingale's was born
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