Last Question, The
by: Dorothy Parker (1893 - 1967)
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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Portrait, A
Very Short Song, A
Well-Worn Story, A
Ballade Of A Great Weariness
Convalescent
I Know I Have Been Happiest
Light Of Love
One Perfect Rose
Lullaby
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