The Last Toast
I raise my glass
To ravaged home,
My bitter life,
And lonely days with you.
I drink to you,
To lying lips' betrayal,
To deathly frigid eyes;
To that the world is cruel and crude,
To that we weren't saved by God.
To ravaged home,
My bitter life,
And lonely days with you.
I drink to you,
To lying lips' betrayal,
To deathly frigid eyes;
To that the world is cruel and crude,
To that we weren't saved by God.
Another of my favorites is My Way, which she wrote in 1940:
One goes in straightforward ways,
One in a circle roams:
Waits for a girl of his gone days,
Or for returning home.
But I do go —and woe is there—
By a way nor straight, nor broad,
But into never and nowhere,
Like trains —off the railroad.
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