SONGS OF THE SOUL
THE CUP OF ETERNITY
The traveler of the endless track
All weary, thirsty, sore doth seek
To quench the quenchless mortal thirst,
The wordless worry of his heart.
All weary, thirsty, sore doth seek
To quench the quenchless mortal thirst,
The wordless worry of his heart.
He spies a cup —a little orb,
He tries to drink with joyful sob,
He stands aback, the cup sets down,—
On the contents scant his heart did frown.
He tries to drink with joyful sob,
He stands aback, the cup sets down,—
On the contents scant his heart did frown.
Yet up he lifts the cup again,
But fears his baneful thirst to flame.
When, hark! a voice of counsel deep
Forbids him this to soil with lip.
But fears his baneful thirst to flame.
When, hark! a voice of counsel deep
Forbids him this to soil with lip.
The cup so small to mortal eye,—
The cup whose depth the wise can spy
Dries up, alas! if mortals drink;
Perennial fount, the soulful think.
The cup whose depth the wise can spy
Dries up, alas! if mortals drink;
Perennial fount, the soulful think.
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