第143章

Victory comes late, And is held low to freezing lips Too rapt with frost To take it.

How sweet it would have tasted, Just a drop!

Was God so economical?

His table 's spread too high for us Unless we dine on tip-toe.

Crumbs fit such little mouths, Cherries suit robins;The eagle's golden breakfast Strangles them.

God keeps his oath to sparrows, Who of little love Know how to starve!