Читать книгу Enough Rope - Dorothy Parker - Страница 14

Wail

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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?

Enough Rope

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