I know the secret
Of a god-given brew ...
Foam of ecstacy
Sparkle of dew.

But I have no flagon ...
I still must yearn
For a crystal phial
Or burnished urn.

For lack of a vessel
My treasure must waste,
While the cup of my neighbor
Is empty of taste.

Ah, some have the flagon,
And some have the brew ...
But rarely does circumstance
Marry the two.