Poetry · Reflection
DOROTHY PARKER ~ MIDNIGHT
19 May 2015
Midnight
The stars are soft as flowers, and as near;
The hills are webs of shadow, slowly spun;
No separate leaf or single blade is here-
All blend to one.
No moonbeam cuts the air; a sapphire light
Rolls lazily. and slips again to rest.
There is no edged thing in all this night,
Save in my breast.
Dorothy Parker
Summer Night
Stanislav Zhukovsky – 1912
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