As Watchers hang upon the East, As Beggars revel at a feast By savory Fancy spread— As brooks in deserts babble sweet On ear too far for the delight, Heaven beguiles the tired.
As that same watcher, when the East Opens the lid of Amethyst And lets the morning go— That Beggar, when an honored Guest, Those thirsty lips to flagons pressed, Heaven to us, if true.
