Dorothy Parker

There Was One

There was one a-riding grand
 On a tall brown mare,
And a fine gold band
 He brought me there.
 
A little, gold band
 He held to me
That would shine on a hand
 For the world to see.
 
There was one a-walking swift
 To a little, new song,
And a rose was the gift
 He carried along,
 
First of all the posies,
 Dewy and red.
They that have roses
 Never need bread.
 
There was one with a swagger
 And a soft, slow tongue,
And a bright, cold dagger
 Where his left hand swung–
 
Craven and gilt,
 Old and bad–
And his stroking of the hilt
 Set a girl mad.
 
There was one a-riding grand
 As he rode from me.
And he raised his golden band
 And he threw it in the sea.
 
There was one a-walking slow
 To a sad, Iong sigh.
And his rose drooped low,
 And he flung it down to die.
 
There was one with a swagger
 And a little, sharp pride,
And a bright, cold dagger
 Ever at his side.
 
At his side it stayed
 When he ran to part.
What is this blade
 Struck through my heart?
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