Autumn Valentine
by: Dorothy Parker (1893 - 1967)
In May my heart was breaking-
Oh, wide the wound, and deep!
And bitter it beat at waking,
And sore it split in sleep.
And when it came November,
I sought my heart, and sighed,
"Poor thing, do you remember?"
"What heart was that?" it cried.
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Portrait, A
Very Short Song, A
Well-Worn Story, A
Ballade Of A Great Weariness
Convalescent
I Know I Have Been Happiest
Light Of Love
One Perfect Rose
Lullaby
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