Desert Pools

By Sara Teasdale

I love too much; I am a river
Surging with spring that seeks the sea,
I am too generous a giver,
Love will not stoop to drink of me.

His feet will turn to desert places
Shadowless, reft of rain and dew,
Where stars stare down with sharpened faces
From heavens pitilessly blue.

And there at midnight sick with faring,
He will stoop down in his desire
To slake the thirst grown past all bearing
In stagnant water keen as fire.

I need a drink, wine maiden, that cup with grape stain lined,
for love that once seemed pleasing has burdened down my mind.

Ah smell how West Wind wafts her musk through the tavern door;
now feel our pumping hearts beat fast, watch our fears unwind.

Why do we who visit love think we’d stay forever?
We know the yearn to wander will always lovers find.

So we asked the Elder: What law makes love bring pain?
Sobriety, he laughed, you’ll feel better when you’re wined.

Your plight cannot be aided by that dull fear to risk
the toss and turn of love’s dark storm upon the ocean blind.

See clear in all these gathered friends who still hold you dear
love’s secret is that you must love without desires that bind.

Hafez, enjoy the one you love, drink deep and embrace;
seek not with her to please your world, just give love and be kind.