I saw One dad in opalescent grey, <br />Who held a crystal cup within her hands <br />In which a sun was deathless. Mighty wands <br />Shook as the spears of starlight in each ray, <br />And where they smote, the darkness was as day, <br />And where they smote not, night was on the lands. <br />Below her feet dead stars were strewn like sands, <br />And in her wings the constellations lay, <br /> <br />'Of this have all men drunken deep,' she said. <br />'Drink this or perish. There is naught beside. <br />This is the draught that fashions men from swine, <br />And tho thy heart deny me in its pride. <br />Yet of my cup of dreams its blood is red <br />And thy Lips red with my creative wine!'<br /><br />George Sterling<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-wine-of-illusion/
