FEAST - William Mickle Poems


Poems » william mickle » feast


I drank at every vine.
    The last was like the first.
I came upon no wine
    So wonderful as thirst.

I gnawed at every root.
    I ate of every plant.
I came upon no fruit
    So wonderful as want.

Feed the grape and bean
    To the vintner and monger;
I will lie down lean
    With my thirst and my hunger.