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  1. Dorothy Parker, “Fair Weather”

    effyoufyi:

    This level reach of blue is not my sea;
    Here are sweet waters, pretty in the sun,
    Whose quiet ripples meet obediently
    A marked and measured line, one after one.
    This is no sea of mine. that humbly laves
    Untroubled sands, spread glittering and warm.
    I have a need of wilder, crueler waves;
    They sicken of the calm, who knew the storm.

    So let a love beat over me again,
    Loosing its million desperate breakers wide;
    Sudden and terrible to rise and wane;
    Roaring the heavens apart; a reckless tide
    That casts upon the heart, as it recedes,
    Splinters and spars and dripping, salty weeds.