The Last Question by 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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