Past And Future


    My future will not copy fair my past
    On any leaf but Heaven's. Be fully done,
    Supernal Will! I would not fain be one
    Who, satisfying thirst and breaking fast
    Upon the fulness of the heart, at last
    Saith no grace after meat. My wine hath run
    Indeed out of my cup, and there is none
    To gather up the bread of my repast
    Scattered and trampled! Yet I find some good
    In earth's green herbs, and streams that bubble up
    Clear from the darkling ground, content until
    I sit with angels before better food.
    Dear Christ! when thy new vintage fills my cup,
    This hand shall shake no more, nor that wine spill.


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