Midnight
Dorothy Parker
The stars are soft as flowers, and as near; The hills are webs of shadow, slowly spun; No separate leaf or single blade is here— All blend to one. No moonbeam cuts the air; a sapphire light Rolls lazily. and slips again to rest. There is no edged thing in all this night, Save in my breast.
Next 10 Poems
- Dorothy Parker : Mortal Enemy
- Dorothy Parker : My Own
- Dorothy Parker : Neither Bloody Nor Bowed
- Dorothy Parker : News Item
- Dorothy Parker : Ninon De Lenclos, On Her Last Birthday
- Dorothy Parker : Nocturne
- Dorothy Parker : Now At Liberty
- Dorothy Parker : Observation
- Dorothy Parker : Of A Woman, Dead Young
- Dorothy Parker : On Being A Woman
