Wail

LOVE has gone a-rocketing.
        That is not the worst;
I could do without the thing,
   And not be the first.

Joy has gone the way it came.
   That is nothing new;
I could get along the same,—
   Many people do.

Dig for me the narrow bed,
   Now I am bereft.
All my pretty hates are dead,
   And what have I left?

Credit

From Enough Rope (Boni & Liveright, 1926) by Dorothy Parker. This poem is in the public domain.