Once more into my arid days like dew, <br />Like wind from an oasis, or the sound <br />Of cold sweet water bubbling underground, <br />A treacherous messenger, the thought of you <br />Comes to destroy me; once more I renew <br />Firm faith in your abundance, whom I found <br />Long since to be but just one other mound <br />Of sand, whereon no green thing ever grew. <br />And once again, and wiser in no wise, <br />I chase your colored phantom on the air, <br />And sob and curse and fall and weep and rise <br />And stumble pitifully on to where, <br />Miserable and lost, with stinging eyes, <br />Once more I clasp,—and there is nothing there.<br /><br />Edna St. Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnets-05-once-more-into-my-arid-days-like-dew/
