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Read more poems by Dorothy Parker: Dorothy Parker Poems at Poetry X.

The first time I died, I walked my ways;
I followed the file of limping days.

I held me tall, with my head flung up,
But I dared not look on the new moon's cup.

I dared not look on the sweet young rain,
And between my ribs was a gleaming pain.

The next time I died, they laid me deep.
They spoke worn words to hallow my sleep.

They tossed me petals, they wreathed me fern,
They weighted me down with a marble urn.

And I lie here warm, and I lie here dry,
And watch the worms slip by, slip by.

Added: 25 Nov 2001 | Last Read: 17 May 2008 7:08 AM | Viewed: 3611 times

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