Mar 16, 2005 09:57
Star, tht gives a gracious dole,
What am I to choose?
Oh, will it be a shriven soul,
Or little buckled shoes?
Shall I wish a wedding ring,
Bright and thin and round,
Or plead you send me covering-
A newly spade mound?
Gentle beam, shall I implore
Gold, or sailing ships,
Or beg I hate forevermore
A pair of lying lips?
Swing you low or high away,
Burn you hot or dim,
My only wish I dare not say-
Lest you should grant me him.
~Dorothy Parker