My own
dear love, he is strong and bold
And
he cares not what comes after.
His
words ring sweet as a chime of gold,
And
his eyes are lit with laughter.
He is
jubilant as a flag unfurled --
Oh,
a girl, she'd not forget him.
My own
dear love, he is all my world, --
And
I wish I'd never met him.
My
love, he's mad, and my love, he's fleet,
And
a wild young wood-thing bore him!
The
ways are fair to his roaming feet,
And
the skies are sunlit for him.
As
sharply sweet to my heart he seems
As
the fragrance of acacia.
My own
dear love, he is all my dreams, --
And
I wish he were in Asia.
My love
runs by like a day in June,
And
he makes no friends of sorrows.
He'll tread his galloping
rigadoon
In
the pathway of the morrows.
He'll
live his days where the sunbeams start,
Nor
could storm or wind uproot him.
My own
dear love, he is all my heart, --
And
I wish somebody'd shoot him.
From a conflicted and unhappy childhood, Parker rose to
acclaim, both for her literary output in such venues as The New Yorker and
as a founding member of the Algonquin Round Table. Following the break-up
of the circle, Parker travelled to Hollywood to pursue screenwriting. She was
twice nominated for an Academy Award. Her screenwriting career was curtailed by
being blacklisted by Hollywood for her involvement in left-wing politics.
