The Small Hours Poem by Dorothy Parker
The Small Hours
Rating: ★2.8
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.
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.
Monday, January 13, 2003
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4/25/2024 3:24:27 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Her wit, her sardonic bite, came from a very dark place inside her. I wonder if it was clinical depression or just a heart that sped from one disaster straight into the arms of another and thus built her own pit of depression to fall into on a regular basis