Edna St. Vincent Millay — Passer Mortuus Est

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?