I CANNOT die, who drank delight <br />From the cup of the crescent moon, <br />And hungrily as men eat bread, <br />Loved the scented nights of June. <br />The rest may die—but is there not <br />Some shining strange escape for me <br />Who sought in Beauty the bright wine <br />Of immortality?<br /><br />Sara Teasdale<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-wine/
