Poem by Dorothy Parker

Midnight

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.

1. I Shall Come Back
2. Verse Reporting Late Arrival at a Conclusion
3. The White Lady
4. Testament
5. Song of Perfect Propriety

Annie Fields Midnight ("NIGHT, with thy passionless stars!")

Print

2146 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version