They say the jackal and the mole Drink from the selfsame stream Where the lion comes to drink.
And they say the eagle and the vulture Dig their beaks into the same carcass, And are at peace, one with the other, In the presence of the dead thing.
O love, whose lordly hand Has bridled my desires, And raised my hunger and my thirst To dignity and pride, Let not the strong in me and the constant Eat the bread or drink the wine That tempt my weaker self. Let me rather starve, And let my hearrt parch with thirst, And let me die and perish, Ere I stretch my hand To a cup you did not fill, Or a bowl you did not bless.
