May 13, 2007...1:10 PM

Passer Mortuus Est by Edna St. Vincent Millay

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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,

Just because it perished?

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