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? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PEACE ON EARTH by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE ITINERANT POET'S ROAD SONG by KAREN SWENSON EPISTLE TO JOHN LAPRAIK, AN OLD SCOTTISH BARD by ROBERT BURNS THE CONFESSION by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |