A certain Lady - By Dorothy Parker

Oh, I can smile for you, and tilt my head, 
And drink your rushing words with eager lips, 
And paint my mouth for you a fragrant red, 
And trace your brows with tutored finger-tips. 
When you rehearse your list of loves to me, 
Oh, I can laugh and marvel, rapturous-eyed. 
And you laugh back, nor can you ever see 
The thousand little deaths my heart has died. 
And you believe, so well I know my part, 
That I am gay as morning, light as snow, 
And all the straining things within my heart 
You'll never know. 

Oh, I can laugh and listen, when we meet, 
And you bring tales of fresh adventurings, -- 
Of ladies delicately indiscreet, 
Of lingering hands, and gently whispered things. 
And you are pleased with me, and strive anew 
To sing me sagas of your late delights. 
Thus do you want me -- marveling, gay, and true, 
Nor do you see my staring eyes of nights. 
And when, in search of novelty, you stray, 
Oh, I can kiss you blithely as you go .... 
And what goes on, my love, while you're away, 
You'll never know. 

Portrait by Louise Bogan

She has no need to fear the fall
Of harvest from the laddered reach
Of orchards, nor the tide gone ebbing
From the steep beach.

Nor hold to pain's effrontery
Her body's bulwark, stern and savage,
Nor be a glass, where to forsee
Another's ravage.

What she has gathered, and what lost,
She will not find to lose again.
She is possessed by time, who once
Was loved by men.

First Fig by Edna St. Vincent Millay

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends --
It gives a lovely light!