"I BRING AN UNUSUAL WINE
I bring an unusual wine
To lips long parched -
Close to my own,
And beg them to drink;
Caked with fever, they try -
I turn away, a brimming eye,
And come again an hour.
Hands still clasp the tardy glass -
Lips I would have cooled - alas -
Are so superfluous cold -
I would try to warm them one -
Shivers where the ivy has mossed them -
Centuries of stalls -
Might not some be thirsty then -
Toward whom the two might lean again -
If they could speak -
Should the play prove piercing -
Would not some cry "Little Girl -
My little Girl" to me -
I could not die with that one thirst
Oppressing me that here and there
A beverage grew -
That other minds could drink at
And go madder than the sea
Did I possess the spot -
So I bear it, tho' above me
It close - I cannot go
Under it, for awe."
Created by d'Araprì