The first time I died, I walked my ways;
I followed the file of limping days.

I held me tall, with my head flung up,
But I dared not look on the new moon’s cup.

I dared not look on the sweet young rain,
And between my ribs was a gleaming pain.

The next time I died, they laid me deep.
They spoke worn words to hallow my sleep.

They tossed me petals, they wreathed me fern,
They weighted me down with a marble urn.

And I lie here warm, and I lie here dry,
And watch the worms slip by, slip by.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Dorothy Parker's poem Epitaph

3 Comments

  1. denise says:

    it was alright

  2. Kim says:

    I love this poem because it shows how scared I am of death. I hate worms and when you are dead, you cannot do anything but lie there and watch them go by. Ahh!

  3. Amber Hunt says:

    thats a good poem

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