THE moon's a steaming chalice, 
Of honey and venom-wine. 
A little of it sipped by night 
Makes the long hours divine. 
But oh, my reckless lovers, 
They drain the cup and wail, 
Die at my feet with shaking limbs 
And tender lips all pale. 
Above them in the sky it bends 
Empty and gray and dead. 
To-morrow night 'tis full again, 
Golden, and foaming red.

Added: Feb 1 2004 | Viewed: 1178 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Vachel Lindsay
Poem: What Semiramis Said
There are no comments for this poem. Why not be the first one to post something about it?

Are you looking for more information on this poem? Perhaps you are trying to analyze it? The poem, What Semiramis Said, has not yet been commented on. You can click here to be the first to post a comment about it. Of course you can also always discuss poems by Vachel Lindsay with others on the American Poems poetry forum!