My cup is empty to-night, <br />Cold and dry are its sides, <br />Chilled by the wind from the open window. <br />Empty and void, it sparkles white in the moonlight. <br />The room is filled with the strange scent <br />Of wistaria blossoms. <br />They sway in the moon's radiance <br />And tap against the wall. <br />But the cup of my heart is still, <br />And cold, and empty. <br /> <br />When you come, it brims <br />Red and trembling with blood, <br />Heart's blood for your drinking; <br />To fill your mouth with love <br />And the bitter-sweet taste of a soul.<br /><br />Amy Lowell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/absence-64/
