Mathilde Blind

(1841 - 1896 / Germany)

I Am Athirst, But Not For Wine - Poem by Mathilde Blind

I am athirst, but not for wine;
The drink I long for is divine,
Poured only from your eyes in mine.

I hunger, but the bread I want,
Of which my blood and brain are scant,
Is your sweet speech, for which I pant.

I am a-cold, and lagging lame,
Life creeps along my languid frame;
Your love would fan it into flame.

Heaven's in that little word--your love!
It makes my heart coo like a dove,
My tears fall as I think thereof.


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Read poems about / on: heaven, heart, love, life



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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