“Song of the Conventions” by Dorothy Parker was originally published in The Saturday Evening Post on February 24, 1923.
We’d dance, with grapes in our wind-tossed hair,
And garments of swirling smoke;
We’d fling wild song to the amorous air,
Till the long-dead gods awoke.
Our quivering bodies, young and white,
Poised light by the brooklet’s brink,
We’d whirl and leap through the moon-mad night—
But what would the neighbors think?
We’d bid the workaday world go hang,
And idle the seasons through;
We’d pay no tribute of thought or pang
To the world that we once knew.
With hearts in ecstasy intertwined,
In languorous, sweet content,
We’d leave all worry and care behind—
But how would we pay the rent?
We’d roam the universe, hand in hand,
Through tropical climes, or cold,
And find each spot was a wonderland,
A country of pearl and gold.
Our hearts as light as the sunlit foam,
We’d voyage the oceans o’er,
With never a thought for those at home—
But wouldn’t our folks be sore?
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