Enwrought around a cup this rustic scene
unfolds: a fisherman there plies his wire
for hearth and bread – nearby, two fox desire
to feast on baskets rich with harvest glean,
and furtive eye the barn with movements keen;
two pale youths nearby stand with hearts on fire,
friends vying for the woman both admire -
her figure full as autumn, face serene.
The cup itself is coveted by swains -
a trophy won with songs in idle time -
not food nor love, but praise might be their prize -
undying hungers in creation's chains;
seized out of time, no final bells will chime
upon these souls - while life flits past their eyes.