by Dorothy Parker

How shall I wail, that wasn't meant for weeping?

Love has run and left me, oh, what then?

Dream, then, I must, who never can be sleeping;

What if I should meet Love, once again?

What if I met him, walking on the highway?

Let him see how lightly I should care.

He'd travel his way, I would follow my way;

Hum a little song, and pass him there.

What if at night, beneath a sky of ashes,

He should seek my doorstep, pale with need?

There could he lie, and dry would be my lashes;

Let him stop his noise, and let me read.

Oh, but I'm gay, that's better off without him;

Would he'd come and see me, laughing here.

Lord! Don't I know I'd have my arms about him,

Crying to him, "Oh, come in, my dear!"