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Poetry Archives

A continuing selection of classic and contemporary poems.

On Cheating The Fiddler

Dorothy Parker

“Then we will have tonight!” we said.
  “Tomorrow—may we not be dead?”
The morrow touched our eyes, and found
  Us walking firm above the ground,
Our pulses quick, our blood alight.
  Tomorrow’s gone—we’ll have tonight!
Online text © 1998-2008 Poetry X. All rights reserved.
From Sunset Rope
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