Читать книгу Enough Rope - Dorothy Parker - Страница 11

Table of Contents

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 flame—

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?