And then the sullen sea-shore sands
filled the golden goblet again
who touched her lips with another pain
who imbibed intoxication from her hands
When did the day fold at the horizon’s edge
when did the evening close to the night
in the tavern who did that faltering flame light
casting wine-soaked shadows on every page
Whose was the kohl whose was the eye
who’s the lips that kissed the goblet’s rim
whose were those tears filled eyelashes to the brim
whose were the anklets that tinkled by
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