Poem by Dorothy Parker

They Part

And if, my friend, you'd have it end,
  There's naught to hear or tell.
But need you try to black my eye
  In wishing me farewell?

Though I admit an edgèd wit
  In woe is warranted.
May I be frank? ... Such words as "----"
  Are better left unsaid.

There's rosemary for you and me;
  But is it usual, dear.
To hire a man, and fill a van
  By way of _souvenir_?

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

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