The Harp-Weaver/Feast

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

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