Sight

Dorothy Parker

 Next Poem          

Unseemly are the open eyes
That watch the midnight sheep,
That look upon the secret skies
Nor close, abashed, in sleep;

That see the dawn drag in, unbidden,
To birth another day-
Oh, better far their gaze were hidden
Below the decent clay.

Next Poem 

 Back to Dorothy Parker

To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.