The Draught of Life.
141
Impatient wandered, sighingly he gave
Into her hands a goblet, ruby red,
Wherein a quivering sunbeam prisoned lay
And glinted fitfully. A fragrance rare
As incense, delicate and fine, was borne
Half fainting on the air. "Take then this draught,
Since so thy will is set. Yet know that he
Who lacketh wine may live to know he lacks,
But whoso lacketh water—better far
He had not lived at all. Yet, since so soon
It palled upon thy senses, and became
So hateful to thee, that, impetuous, thou
Hast cast it from thee, take for thy life-draught
This other—Nay!—but thank me not until
Thou see'st how it serves thee." Silence fell
As, light as summer rain that pattering falls
A moment and is gone, her footsteps passed
Along the corridor. With head erect
And eyes agleam, triumphantly she bore
Her prize away, already feeling through
Her every vivid sense its magic steal.
Into her hands a goblet, ruby red,
Wherein a quivering sunbeam prisoned lay
And glinted fitfully. A fragrance rare
As incense, delicate and fine, was borne
Half fainting on the air. "Take then this draught,
Since so thy will is set. Yet know that he
Who lacketh wine may live to know he lacks,
But whoso lacketh water—better far
He had not lived at all. Yet, since so soon
It palled upon thy senses, and became
So hateful to thee, that, impetuous, thou
Hast cast it from thee, take for thy life-draught
This other—Nay!—but thank me not until
Thou see'st how it serves thee." Silence fell
As, light as summer rain that pattering falls
A moment and is gone, her footsteps passed
Along the corridor. With head erect
And eyes agleam, triumphantly she bore
Her prize away, already feeling through
Her every vivid sense its magic steal.
Scarce Time had ta'en upon his endless march
A step or two before the Arbiter,
Still seated on his high and lonely throne,
A step or two before the Arbiter,
Still seated on his high and lonely throne,
