Back to Index

Passer Mortuus Est

by Edna St. Vincent Millay, 1921

Death devours all lovely things;
  Lesbia with her sparrow
Shares the darkness,—presently
  Every bed is narrow

Unremembered as old rain
  Dries the sheer libation,
And the little petulant hand
  Is an annotation.

After all, my erstwhile dear,
  My no longer cherished,
Need we say it was not love,
  Now that love is perished?

Published in Second April
Tags: heartache

Any corrections or public domain poems I should have here? Email me at poems (at) this domain.