A witty poem from the American poet Dorothy Parker (August 22, 1893 – June 7, 1967).
Song of the Wilderness
We’ll go out to the open spaces,
Break the web of the morning mist,
Feel the wind on our upflung faces.
[This, of course, is if you insist.]
We’ll go out in the golden season,
Brave-eyed, gaze at the sun o’verhead.
[Can’t you listen, my love, to reason?
Don’t you know that my nose gets red?]
Where the water falls, always louder,
Deep we’ll dive, in the chuckling foam.
[I’ll go big without rouge and powder!
Why on earth don’t you leave me home?]
We’ll go out where the winds are playing,
Roam the ways of the brilliant West.
[I never designed for straying;
In a taxi I’m at my best.]
Minds blown clean of the thoughts that rankle,
Far we’ll stray where the grasses swirl.
[I’ll be certain to turn my ankle;
Can’t you dig up another girl?]
We’ll go out where the light comes falling –
Bars of amber and rose and green.
[Go, my love, if the West is calling!
Leave me home with a magazine!]
Become a Saturday Evening Post member and enjoy unlimited access. Subscribe now