The New Love

Dorothy Parker

If it shine or if it rain,
   Little will I care or know.
Days, like drops upon a pane,
   Slip, and join, and go.

At my door’s another lad;
   Here’s his flower in my hair.
If he see me pale and sad,
   Will he see me fair?

I sit looking at the floor.
   Little will I think or say
If he seek another door;
   Even if he stay.

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