The Last Question


Dorothy Parker

New love, new love, where are you to lead me?

All along a narrow way that marks a crooked line.

How are you to slake me, and how are you to feed me?

With bitter yellow berries, and a sharp new wine.

New love, new love, shall I be forsaken?

One shall go a-wandering, and one of us must sigh.

Sweet it is to slumber, but how shall we awaken—

Whose will be the broken heart, when dawn comes by?

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