Dorothy Parker (Дороти Паркер)

Epitaph

The first time I died, I walked my ways;
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.

I dared not look on the sweet young rain,
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 tossed me petals, they wreathed me fern,
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.

1. The Small Hours
2. The Trifler
3. A Very Short Song
4. The Dark Girl's Rhyme
5. Threnody

George Byron (Джордж Байрон) Epitaph ("Posterity will ne’er survey") January 2, 1820

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