The moon's a steaming chalice, <br />Of honey and venom-wine. <br />A little of it sipped by night <br />Makes the long hours divine. <br />But oh, my reckless lovers, <br />They drain the cup and wail, <br />Die at my feet with shaking limbs <br />And tender lips all pale. <br />Above them in the sky it bends <br />Empty and gray and dead. <br />To-morrow night 'tis full again, <br />Golden, and foaming red.<br /><br />Vachel Lindsay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-semiramis-said/
