The White Lady
I cannot rest, I cannot rest
In straight and shiny wood,
My woven hands upon my breast--
The dead are all so good!
The earth is cool across their eyes;
They lie there quietly.
But I am neither old nor wise;
They do not welcome me.
Where never I walked alone before,
I wander in the weeds;
And people scream and bar the door,
And rattle at their beads.
We cannot rest, we never rest
Within a narrow bed
Who still must love the living best--
Who hate the pompous dead!
Dorothy Parker's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (The White Lady by Dorothy Parker )
Did you read them?
- To The Gates Of Hell, Edward Kofi Louis
- The house where the wife lives like an i.., Dr.V.K. Kanniappan
- Ek Lafz Ek Rishta, Bano Ali
- THE PATRIOT, Justice Uchenna Mmahi
- fortress of solutude, ademola oluwabusayo
- Never Feeling The Love, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Change Is Needed, Edward Kofi Louis
- How Can She Learn?, Edward Kofi Louis
- Intimate Conclusions, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- COPLA 107 RESOLUTION: This Bad Guy World, T (no first name) Wignesan