by Dorothy Parker

Chloe's hair, no doubt, was brighter;

Lydia's mouth more sweetly sad;

Hebe's arms were rather whiter;

Languorous-lidded Helen had

Eyes more blue than e'er the sky was;

Lalage's was subtler stuff;

Still, you used to think that I was

Fair enough.

Now you're casting yearning glances

At the pale Penelope;

Cutting in on Claudia's dances;

Taking Iris out to tea.

Iole you find warm-hearted;

Zoe's cheek is far from rough-

Don't you think it's time we parted? . . .

Fair enough!