Poems (Millay)/Passer Mortuus Est

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Passer Mortuns 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?