Friday, 15 August 2014

Poetry Corner #10

I was not sure which poem to post this week but decided to share a poem by Dorothy Parker, an American poet (August 22, 1893 – June 7, 1967).

One Perfect Rose

A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet -
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;
'My fragile leaves,' it said, 'his heart enclose.'
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it's always just my luck to get
One perfect rose. 

Dorothy Parker

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