Classic Poem

Wine , — bring wine!
Let the crystal beaker flame and shine,
Brimming o'er with the draught divine!

The crimson glow
Of the lifted cup on my forehead throw,
Like the sunset's flush on a field of snow.

I love to lave
My thirsty lip in the ruddy wave;
Freedom bringeth the wine so brave!

The world is cold:
Sorrow and pain have gloomy hold,
Chilling the bosom warm and bold.

Doubts and fears
Veil the shine of my morning years, —
My life's lone rainbow springs from tears.

But Eden-gleams
Visit my soul in immortal dreams,
When the wave of the goblet burns and beams.

Not from the Rhine,
Not from fields of Burgundian vine,
Bring me the bright Olympian wine!

Not with a ray
Born where the winds of Shiraz play,
Or the fiery blood of the bright Tokay.

Not where the glee
Of Falernian vintage echoes free,
Or the Chian gardens gem the sea.

But wine, — bring wine,
Royally flushed with its growth divine,
In the crystal depth of my soul to shine!

Whose glow was caught
From the warmth which Fancy's summer brought
To the vintage-fields in the Land of Thought.

Rich and free
To my thirsting soul will the goblet be,
Poured by the Hebe, Poesy.