I'm sick of embarking in dories <br /> Upon an emotional sea. <br />I'm wearied of playing Dolores <br /> (A role never written for me). <br /> <br />I'll never again like a cub lick <br /> My wounds while I squeal at the hurt. <br />No more I'll go walking in public, <br /> My heart hanging out of my shirt. <br /> <br />I'm tired of entwining me garlands <br /> Of weather-worn hemlock and bay. <br />I'm over my longing for far lands- <br /> I wouldn't give that for Cathay. <br /> <br />I'm through with performing the ballet <br /> Of love unrequited and told. <br />Euterpe, I tender you vale; <br /> Good-by, and take care of that cold. <br /> <br />I'm done with this burning and giving <br /> And reeling the rhymes of my woes. <br />And how I'll be making my living, <br /> The Lord in His mystery knows.<br /><br />Dorothy Parker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pour-prendre-conge/
