Dorothy Parker

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

A Well-Worn Story - Poem by Dorothy Parker

In April, in April,
My one love came along,
And I ran the slope of my high hill
To follow a thread of song.

His eyes were hard as porphyry
With looking on cruel lands;
His voice went slipping over me
Like terrible silver hands.

Together we trod the secret lane
And walked the muttering town.
I wore my heart like a wet, red stain
On the breast of a velvet gown.

In April, in April,
My love went whistling by,
And I stumbled here to my high hill
Along the way of a lie.

Now what should I do in this place
But sit and count the chimes,
And splash cold water on my face
And spoil a page with rhymes?


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Read poems about / on: april, silver, together, song, water, red, heart, love, running



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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