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The Choice

He'd have given me rolling lands,  Houses of marble, and billowing farms,

Pearls, to trickle between my hands,  Smoldering rubies, to circle my arms.

You- you'd only a lilting song,  Only a melody, happy and high,

You were sudden and swift and strong-  Never a thought for another had I.

He'd have given me laces rare,  Dresses that glimmered with frosty sheen,

Shining ribbons to wrap my hair,  Horses to draw me, as fine as a queen.

You- you'd only to whistle low,  Gayly I followed wherever you led.

I took you, and I let him go-  Somebody ought to examine my head!

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Dorothy Parker

Dorothy Parker (née Rothschild; August 22, 1893 – June 7, 1967) was an American poet, writer, critic, and satirist based in New York; she was be…

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