They Part

Dorothy Parker

And if, my friend, you’d have it end,
  There’s naught to hear or tell.
But need you try to black my eye
  In wishing me farewell.

Though I admit an edged wit
  In woe is warranted,
May I be frank? . . . Such words as “—”
  Are better left unsaid.

There’s rosemary for you and me;
  But is it usual, dear,
To hire a man, and fill a van
  By way of souvenir?

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