Fair Weather
by: Dorothy Parker (1893 - 1967)
This level reach of blue is not my sea;
Here are sweet waters, pretty in the sun,
Whose quiet ripples meet obediently
A marked and measured line, one after one.
This is no sea of mine. that humbly laves
Untroubled sands, spread glittering and warm.
I have a need of wilder, crueler waves;
They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm.
So let a love beat over me again,
Loosing its million desperate breakers wide;
Sudden and terrible to rise and wane;
Roaring the heavens apart; a reckless tide
That casts upon the heart, as it recedes,
Splinters and spars and dripping, salty weeds.
|
Portrait, A
Very Short Song, A
Well-Worn Story, A
Ballade Of A Great Weariness
Convalescent
I Know I Have Been Happiest
Light Of Love
One Perfect Rose
Lullaby
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