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On Being A Woman

Why is it, when I am in Rome, I'd give an eye to be at home, But when on native earth I be, My soul is sick for Italy? And why with you, my love, my lord, Am I spectacularly bored, Yet do you up and leave me--then I scream to have you back again?

Written by

Dorothy Parker

1893-1967 / Female / American

LinesWords: 955

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