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Vachel Lindsay - What Semiramis Said
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The moon`s a steaming chalice, 
      Of honey and venom-wine. 
A little of it sipped by night 
      Makes the long hours divine. 
But oh, my reckless lovers, 
      They drain the cup and wail, 
Die at my feet with shaking limbs 
      And tender lips all pale. 
Above them in the sky it bends 
      Empty and gray and dead. 
To-morrow night `tis full again, 
      Golden, and foaming red.
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