Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Dearth

by Florence Earle Coates

For other versions of this work, see Dearth.

DEARTH

AS one who faring o'er a desert plain
Sees fountains clear in the mirage arise,
And, parchèd, longs the nectar sweet to gain
Which still before him flies—
So, wistfully, half doubting, half-believing,
Scornful of hope—yet hopeful, self-deceiving,
I thirst for love, which wastes before my eyes.