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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=369231" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Story of Mrs. W</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=369231" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">My garden blossoms pink and white,<br>A place of decorous murmuring,<br>Where I am safe from August night<br>And cannot feel the knife of Spring.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=369231" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And I may walk the pretty place<br>Before the curtsying hollyhocks<br>And laundered daisies, round of face-<br>Good little girls, in party frocks.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=369231" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">My trees are amiably arrayed<br>In pattern on the dappled sky,<br>And I may sit in filtered shade<br>And watch the tidy years go by.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=369231" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">And I may amble pleasantly<br>And hear my neighbors list their bones<br>And click my tongue in sympathy,<br>And count the cracks in paving-stones.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=369231" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">My door is grave in oaken strength,<br>The cool of linen calms my bed,<br>And there at night I stretch my length<br>And envy no one but the dead.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Dorothy+Parker">Dorothy Parker</a></strong></div>