The Cup
My body is no more clay
But rapture—touched and golden:
The Cup—the Cup
From which my lover drinks
And drinking makes immortal.
The Stranger
(Eleven years)
Oh you spoil everything!
I am glad you are only my teacher—
My body is no more clay
But rapture—touched and golden:
The Cup—the Cup
From which my lover drinks
And drinking makes immortal.
(Eleven years)
Oh you spoil everything!
I am glad you are only my teacher—