Dorothy Parker

The Dark Girl’s Rhyme

Who was there had seen us
 Wouldn’t bid him run?
Heavy lay between us
 All our sires had done.
 
There he was, a-springing
 Of a pious race,
Setting hags a-swinging
 In a market-place;
 
Sowing turnips over
 Where the poppies lay;
Looking past the clover,
 Adding up the hay;
 
Shouting through the Spring song,
 Clumping down the sod;
Toadying, in sing-song,
 To a crabbed god.
 
There I was, that came of
 Folk of mud and name–
I that had my name of
 Them without a name.
 
Up and down a mountain
 Streeled my silly stock;
Passing by a fountain,
 Wringing at a rock;
 
Devil-gotten sinners,
 Throwing back their heads,
Fiddling for their dinners,
 Kissing for their beds.
 
Not a one had seen us
 Wouldn’t help him flee.
Angry ran between us
 Blood of him and me.
 
How shall I be mating
 Who have looked above–
Living for a hating,
 Dying of a love?
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