Love

They say the jackal and the mole 

Drink from the selfsame stream 

Where the lion comes to drink. 

And they say the eagle and the vulture 

Dig their beaks into the same carcass, 

And are at peace, one with the other, 

In the presence of the dead thing. 

 

O love, whose lordly hand 

Has bridled my desires, 

And raised my hunger and my thirst 

To dignity and pride, 

Let not the strong in me and the constant 

Eat the bread or drink the wine 

That tempt my weaker self. 

 

Let me rather starve, 

And let my heart parch with thirst, 

And let me die and perish, 

Ere I stretch my hand 

To a cup you did not fill, 

Or a bowl you did not bless.