<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=369243" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Dark Girl's Rhyme</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who was there had seen us<br> Wouldn't bid him run?<br>Heavy lay between us<br> All our sires had done.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There he was, a-springing<br> Of a pious race,<br>Setting hags a-swinging<br> In a market-place;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sowing turnips over<br> Where the poppies lay;<br>Looking past the clover,<br> Adding up the hay;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shouting through the Spring song,<br> Clumping down the sod;<br>Toadying, in sing-song,<br> To a crabbed god.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There I was, that came of<br> Folk of mud and name-<br>I that had my name of<br> Them without a name.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Up and down a mountain<br> Streeled my silly stock;<br>Passing by a fountain,<br> Wringing at a rock;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Devil-gotten sinners,<br> Throwing back their heads,<br>Fiddling for their dinners,<br> Kissing for their beds.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not a one had seen us<br> Wouldn't help him flee.<br>Angry ran between us<br> Blood of him and me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How shall I be mating<br> Who have looked above-<br>Living for a hating,<br> Dying of a love?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Dorothy+Parker">Dorothy Parker</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=369243" data-title="The Dark Girl's Rhyme de Dorothy Parker" data-description="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 c..."></div> </div> </div>

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