I am athirst, but not for wine;
The drink I long for is divine,
Poured only from your eyes in mine.
I hunger, but the bread I want,
Of which my blood and brain are scant,
Is your sweet speech, for which I pant.
I am a-cold, and lagging lame,
Life creeps along my languid frame;
Your love would fan it into flame.
Heaven's in that little word--your love!
It makes my heart coo like a dove,
My tears fall as I think thereof.
I Am Athirst, But Not For Wine
Mathilde Blind
(1)
Poem topics: heart, heaven, life, sweet, long, speech, brain, cold, dove, flame, hunger, bread, drink, divine, love, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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