Dorothy Parker

The New Love

If it shine or if it rain,
  Little will I care or know.
Days, like drops upon a pane,
  Slip, and join, and go.
 
At my door’s another lad;
  Here’s his flower in my hair.
If he see me pale and sad,
  Will he see me fair?
 
I sit looking at the floor.
  Little will I think or say
If he seek another door;
  Even if he stay.
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