To have a minor cup to drink
Of unadulterated wet,
Clear and cool water—that, I think
Would sate this thirst that does not shrink.
It but expands, and yet I get
No satisfaction, even though
I do require so little: let
Me have that portion, Father, yet.
Lord, let me have it even so--
Though I upon the brink do face
Decline, disaster, as they grow
To culminate scenario.
Poor player—shall I, without grace,
Achieve my end (now at the brink)
With but futility apace
As has but dogged me on the chase?