POEM
One Perfect Rose
A single flow'r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet—
One perfect rose.
I knew the language of the floweret;
“My fragile leaves,” it said, “his heart enclose.”
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.
Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it’s always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.
Dorothy Parker, “One Perfect Rose” from The Portable Dorothy Parker, introduction by Brendan Gill. Copyright 1926 and renewed 1954 by Dorothy Parker. Used with the permission of Viking Penguin, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Dorothy Parker’s (1893-1967) biting wit made her a legend, but it also masked her lonely . . . MORE »
More Poems by Dorothy Parker
Rondeau Redoublé (and Scarcely Worth the Trouble, at That)
