Because my love is quick
to come and go --
A little here, and then a
little there --
What use are any words of
mine to swear
My heart is stubborn
and my spirit slow
Of weathering the drip and
drive of woe?
What is my oath, when
you have but to bare
My little, easy loves; and
I can dare
Only to shrug, and answer,
"They are so"?
You do not know how
heavy a heart it is
That hangs about my
neck -- a clumsy stone
Cut with a birth, a
death, a bridal day.
Each time I love, I find
it still my own,
Who take it, now to that
lad, now to this,
Seeking to give the wretched
thing away.
Dorothy Parker,
Enough Rope