BALLADE OF THE PINK PARASOL by WALLACE STEVENS

I pray thee, where is the old-time wig,
And where is the lofty hat?
Where is the maid on the road in her gig,
And where is the fire-side cat?
Never was sight more fair than that,
Outshining, outreaching them all,
There in the night where lovers sat-
But where is the pink parasol?
Where in the park is the dark spadille
With scent of lavender sweet,
That never was held in the mad quadrille,
And where are the slippered feet?
Ah! we'd have given a pound to meet
The card that wrought our fall
The card that none other of all could beat-
But where is the pink parasol?
Where is the roll of the old calash,
And the jog of the light sedan?
Whence Chloe's diamond brooch would flash
And conquer poor peeping man.
Answer me, where is the painted fan
And the candles bright on the wall;
Where is the coat of yellow and tan-
But where is the pink parasol?
Prince, these baubles are far away,
In the ruin of palace and hall,
Made dark by the shadow of yesterday--
But where is the pink parasol?

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