Passer Mortuus 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 liberation
And the lilttle putulant hand
Is an annotation

After all, my erstwhile dear,
My no long cherised
Need we say it was not love
Now that love is perished?