Poem by Dorothy Parker

Wail

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?

1. I Shall Come Back
2. Inventory
3. Song of Perfect Propriety
4. The White Lady
5. Chant for Dark Hours

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