Poem by Dorothy Parker

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.

Shiny day on shiny day
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.

1. I Shall Come Back
2. Verse Reporting Late Arrival at a Conclusion
3. The White Lady
4. Social Note
5. Testament

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