Love, Though For This
by: Dorothy Parker (1893 - 1967)
Love, though for this you riddle me with darts,
And drag me at your chariot till I die,
Oh, heavy prince! O, panderer of hearts!
Yet hear me tell how in their throats they lie
Who shout you mighty: thick about my hair,
Day in, day out, your ominous arrows purr,
Who still am free, unto no querulous care
A fool, and in no temple worshiper!
I, that have bared me to your quiver's fire,
Lifted my face into its puny rain,
Do wreathe you Impotent to Evoke Desire
As you are Powerless to Elicit Pain!
(Now will the god, for blasphemy so brave,
Punish me, surely, with the shaft I crave!)
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I Shall Forget You Presently
I Think I Should Have Loved You
Oh, Think Not I Am Faithful
Portrait By A Neighbour
She Is Overheard Singing
Merry Maid, The
Penitent, The
Philosopher, The
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