Unfortunate CoincidenceBy the time you swear you’re his,
Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
Infinite, undying—
Lady, make a note of this:
One of you is lying.
The False FriendsThey laid their hands upon my head,
They stroked my cheek and brow;
And time could heal a hurt, they said,
And time oculd dim a vow.
And they were pitiful and mild
Who whispered to me then,
"The heart that breaks in April, child,
Will mend in May again."
Oh, many a mended heart they knew,
So old they were, and wise,
And little did they have to do
To come to me with lies!
Who flings me silly talk of May
Shall meet a bitter soul;
For June was nearly spent away
Before my heart was whole.
Thought for a Sunshiny Morning
It costs me never a stab nor squirm
To tread by chance upon a worm.
"Aha, my little dear," I say,
"Your clan will pay me back one day."
Copyright © 2025 by Dorothy Parker. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
