Dorothy Parker

(22 August 1893 - 7 June 1967 / Long Branch / New Jersey)

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.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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