Past and Future

My future will not copy fair my past

On any leaf but Heaven's. Be fully done,

Supernal Will! I would not fain be one

Who, satisfying thirst and breaking fast

Upon the fulness of the heart, at last

Saith no grace after meat. My wine hath run

Indeed out of my cup, and there is none

To gather up the bread of my repast

Scattered and trampled! Yet I find some good

In earth's green herbs, and streams that bubble up

Clear from the darkling ground,—content until

I sit with angels before better food.

Dear Christ! when Thy new vintage fills my cup,

This hand shall shake no more, nor that wine spill.