A single flow’r he sent me, since we met.
All tenderly his messenger he chose;
Deep-hearted, pure, with scented dew still wet-
One perfect rose.

I knew the language of the floweret;
“My fragile leaves,” it said, “his heart enclose.”
Love long has taken for his amulet
One perfect rose.

Why is it no one ever sent me yet
One perfect limousine, do you suppose?
Ah no, it’s always just my luck to get
One perfect rose.

22 Comments

  1. David Nichol says:

    Dorothy Parker was a singular wit, and I believe she was having a little fun. If you’ve ever read anything else of hers, you know that she loved to poke convention in the eye. It’s a brilliant piece of turn-about.

  2. David Nichol says:

    Dorothy Parker was a singular wit, and I believe she was having a little fun. If you’ve ever read anything else of hers, you know that she loved to poke convention in the eye. It’s a brilliant piece of turn-about.

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