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My little dog was cowering there,
A glassy terror in its stare;
A glassy terror in its stare;
My veins turned ice—O smacking lips,
O dainty greedy finger-tips!
O dainty greedy finger-tips!
'Twas bones of Hungry Heart they ate,
Broken and boiled and delicate,
Broken and boiled and delicate,
Platter on platter the board along,
And as they supped they sang a song:
And as they supped they sang a song:
An ancient ardent melody
About a lady passing by
Whom they must love until they die.
About a lady passing by
Whom they must love until they die.
XII
And as they drank I saw the wine,
It never came from ripened vine,
It never came from ripened vine,
It never was brewed in tub or vat,
Knew web of spider or squeak of rat—
But it knows their thirst and it pours for that.
Knew web of spider or squeak of rat—
But it knows their thirst and it pours for that.
A thirsty stream that none may gauge,
That none shall slake though the stream assuage,
That none shall slake though the stream assuage,
Of wine the very counterpart,
Out of the side of Hungry Heart.
Out of the side of Hungry Heart.
And mixed with the toast, a violin,
Mellow and merry above the din,
Held shoulder high 'neath a woman's chin.
Mellow and merry above the din,
Held shoulder high 'neath a woman's chin.
16
