Response to Poem containing the line "In time every bed becomes narrow"?

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 libation; And the little petulant hand Is an annotation. After all, my erstwhile dear, My no longer cherished, Need we say it was not love, Just because it perished? -Edna St. Vincent Millay

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