Flame and Shadow/The Wine

by Sara Teasdale

For works with similar titles, see The Wine.

 

THE WINE

I cannot die, who drank delight
From the cup of the crescent moon,
And hungrily as men eat bread,
Loved the scented nights of June.

The rest may die—but is there not
Some shining strange escape for me
Who sought in Beauty the bright wine
Of immortality?