Dorothy Parker (22 August 1893 - 7 June 1967 / Long Branch / New Jersey)

Leave me to my lonely pillow.
Go, and take your silly posies
Who has vowed to wear the willow
Looks a fool, tricked out in roses.

Who are you, my lad, to ease me?
Leave your pretty words unspoken.
Tinkling echoes little please me,
Now my heart is freshly broken.

Over young are you to guide me,
And your blood is slow and sleeping.
If you must, then sit beside me....
Tell me, why have I been weeping?