MONODY
Slowly the roses droop and die;
(Where is the love we knew of old?)
Slowly the sun-bright days go by.
(Little white love, so cold, so cold.)
Dark are the leaves on the weary ground,
Sad are the winds in the still, gray glen;
Slowly the year goes its listless round
Over again.
Somewhere the sunbeams dance and play;
(Where is the love that used to thrill?)
Somewhere the riotous roses sway.
(Little white love, so still, so still.)
Somewhere the skies of a young April shine
Bright as the heavens we prayed to then...
Somewhere you're pulling the same old line
Over again.
by Dorothy Parker
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