Page:Poems Storrie.djvu/156

That this, which looks so clear and sparkles so,
Should prove so tasteless? Ah, then—pity me
And give me hut a little flask of wine
That I may drink, and feel between my lips
Its heavenly flavour."
The Arbiter looked down upon the face
Uplifted to him, marked the lovely curves
Of chin and forehead, and the magic gloom
Of dark eyes raying lustre, thro' a fringe
Of darker lashes, marked the mouth's red bow
Apart with pleading, and the slender form
A flower on tip-toe, reaching towards the sun—
Himself—yet sternly spake: "Oh, foolish one,
The draught thou hast is needful for thee—sweet
And pure, an element of life, the source and spring
And vivifying power of every draught
That ever was, or ever yet can be;
The vintage of the skies! so good and pure
That man may live from strong and happy youth
To age as happy, and across his lips
Let not another liquid pass, and thou
Did'st take it gladly, joyfully, yet now,
Tho' still the chalice brims as full and clear
As if thou had'st not drunk, thou comest here
To bid me give thee other. Why is this?"