Poetry Day 10 - Rainy Night

Yesterday, fog. Today, rain.

Dorothy Parker may just be the perfect poet for both moody teenage girls and snarky mature women. This poem is for the former – and because it’s raining. It was one of my early favorites from Ms. Parker, largely due to the third stanza.

Rainy Night

Ghosts of all my lovely sins,
Who attend too well my pillow,
Gay the wanton rain begins;
Hide the limp and tearful willow,

Turn aside your eyes and ears,
Trail away your robes of sorrow.
You shall have my further years, -
You shall walk with me tomorrow.

I am sister to the rain;
Fey and sudden and unholy,
Petulant at the window pane,
Quickly lost, remembered slowly.

I have lived with shades, a shade;
I am hung with graveyard flowers.
Let me be tonight arrayed
In the silver of the showers.

Every fragile thing shall rust;
When another April passes
I may be a furry dust,
Sifting through the brittle grasses.

All sweet sins shall be forgot
Who will live to tell their siring?
Hear me now, nor let me rot
Wistful still, and still aspiring.

Ghosts of dear temptations, heed;
I am frail, be you forgiving.
See you not that I have need
To be living with the living?

Sail tonight, the Styx’s breast;
Glide among the dim processions
Of the exquisite unblest.
Spirits of my shared transgressions.

Roam with young Persephone,
Plucking poppies for you slumber…
With the morrow, there shall be
One more wraith among your number.