Andrew Bice Saxton

INTO the crystal chalice of the soul

Is falling, drop by drop, Life’s blending mead.

The pleasant waters of our childhood speed

And enter first; and Love pours in its whole

Deep flood of tenderness and gall. There roll

The drops of sweet and bitter that proceed

From wedded trustfulness, and hearts that bleed

For children that outrun us to the goal.

And later come the calmer joys of age—

The restful streams of quietude that flow

Around their fading lives, whose heritage

Is whitened locks and voice serene and low.

These added blessings round the vessel up—

Death is the overflowing of the cup.