Tall with slender stem you stood,
Flaring goblet of crystal glass.
But you are gone now – gone – alas
From those who used and knew your good.
Pure shape formed from heathen fire,
Many who drank from thee are gone.
Now you, in turn, your turn, move on,
God decrees all things expire.
Sad, deep memories recall
The liquid fire in thy hand
That brought to me to understand
The meaning of it all.
And then you fell, and there you shattered.
A tragedy – to me you mattered.
1996