Wail

written by


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 Love has gone a-rocketing.
 That is not the worst;
 I could do without the thing,
 And not be the first.

 Joy has gone the way it came.
 That is nothing new;
 I could get along the same, -
 Many people do.

 Dig for me the narrow bed,
 Now I am bereft.
 All my pretty hates are dead,
 And what have I left?

© Dorothy Parker