In May my heart was breaking-
Oh, wide the wound, and deep!
And bitter it beat at waking,
And sore it split in sleep.
And when it came November,
I sought my heart, and sighed,
"Poor thing, do you remember?"
"What heart was that?" it cried.
I have not understood the last line - ' 'What heart was that? ' it cried. '. Can somebody please explain it to me.
From come september to November is a wonderful season, A wonderful poem.
Love her witty, drama queen nature. So true. We see our slights and heartaches as so big, all consuming until one day, they seem so silly.
And bitter it beat at waking, And sore it split in sleep. heart breaking. tony
A smile to the face thanks, as always, from Dorothy Parker..
Extreme pain causes amnesia, even for hearts. Like that of soldiers traumatized by war. Ms. Parker does a great job at creativity here, with the last line as a surprise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'What heart was that, it cried'...the heart in question, the author's, is oblivious to its past. Pain and time has altered its state. The memory that was so painful has been forgotten, or lat least, suppressed.