In prayer or praise of all that man has been

We are not mad who drink his chalice dry.

To watch him thirst would be the greater sin

and who are we to let the bosom sigh?

 

If grap'ed wines and fruited lips are all,

then God was born to tease the yet unkissed.

The lips that thirst and pain to heed his call

would find the thirst unquenched, uncooled by mist.

 

They are not men who drink before the toast

or steal the sweetness from the mist with bread.

Real communion of love, though cherished most,

Who seeks to speak of love things known, unsaid?

 

Come now, to drink the toast of love you hear,

Then wipe away the sweetness of her tear.

 

© 1959