Thursday, September 20, 2007

Bitter Poetry Much, Eh?

Oh, Think Not I Am Faithful
by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Oh, think not I am faithful to a vow!
Faithless am I save to love's self alone.

Were you not lovely I would leave you now:
After the feet of beauty fly my own.

Were you not still my hunger's rarest food,
And water ever to my wildest thirst,
I would desert you­ -- think not but I would! --
­And seek another as I sought you first.

But you are mobile as the veering air,
And all your charms more changeful than the tide,
Wherefore to be inconstant is no care:
I have but to continue at your side.

So wanton, light and false, my love, are you,
I am most faithless when I most am true.

Mortal Enemy
by Dorothy Parker

Let another cross his way-
She's the one will do the weeping!
Little need I fear he'll stray
Since I have his heart in keeping-

Let another hail him dear-
Little chance that he'll forget me!
Only need I curse and fear
Her he loved before he met me.


Anonymous Anonymous said...


You need the beach, Beloved, and soon. Wash self-indulgence out to sea.

September 20, 2007  

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