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Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889

The Draught

By Charles Henry Lüders (1858–1891)

WHEN I am thirsty, let me drink

Prone upon the mossy brink

Of a rocky basin, laid

Within the forest’s heart of shade.

There may I know the cool caress

The spring gives to my eagerness;

Feeling its bubbles rise and float

Around my chin, across my throat,

Till the swiftly pulsing blood

Circles calmly as the flood;

Till by every sense I’m told

That never flagon tipped with gold

So divine a draught doth hold.