Poem of the day

[pallas_athena]

Braggart


The days will rally, wreathing
Their crazy tarantelle;
And you must go on breathing,
But I'll be safe in hell.


Like January weather,
The years will bite and smart,
And pull your bones together
To wrap your chattering heart.


The pretty stuff you're made of
Will crack and crease and dry.
The thing you are afraid of
Will look from every eye.


You will go faltering after
The bright, imperious line,
And split your throat on laughter,
And burn your eyes with brine.


You will be frail and musty
With peering, furtive head,
Whilst I am young and lusty
Among the roaring dead.



--Dorothy Parker

Comments

[fairie-ring.livejournal.com]

Cheery and wonderful, though she's no Chaucer...

[suetekh.livejournal.com]

makes it seem suicide as almost worth it, just to die before my arse sags...

[artnouveauho.livejournal.com]

Age cannot wither your arse.

[(Anonymous)]

"The bright, imperious line" -- _damn_, that's good!

On another Dorothy note: on our walking tour of Jewish Oxford today which was very interesting), the guide-in-training who was coming along on the walk & had been a Christ Church man pointed out the house, just across St. Aldate's from Tom Tower, where Dorothy Sayers was born. I hadn't realized she'd been born in Oxford...

Oops -- that was me...

[miriya-b.livejournal.com]

(sorry, hadn't logged in ... but I bet you could guess it was me ;) )