Then let them point my every tear,
And let them mock and moan;
Another week, another year,
And I'll be with my own
Who slumber now by night and day
In fields of level brown;
Whose hearts within their breasts were clay
Before they laid them down.
My Own
Dorothy Parker
(1)
Poem topics: night, brown, tear, level, year, point, Valentine's Day, slumber, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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