Dorothy Parker
The Last Question
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?