Enough Rope/Story of Mrs. W—

by Dorothy Parker

Story of Mrs. W———

MY garden blossoms pink and white,
 A place of decorous murmuring
Where I am safe from August night
 And cannot feel the knife of spring.

And I may walk the pretty place
 Before the curtsying hollyhocks
And laundered daisies, round of face—
 Good little girls, in party frocks.

My trees are amiably arrayed
 In pattern on the dappled sky,
And I may sit in filtered shade
 And watch the tidy years go by.

And I may amble pleasantly
 And hear my neighbors list their bones
And click my tongue in sympathy,
 And count the cracks in paving stones.

My door is grave in oaken strength,
 The cool of linen calms my bed,
And there at night I stretch my length
 And envy no one but the dead.

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