Author Judith Gautier My boat is of ebony; the holes in my flute are golden. As a plant takes out stains from silk, so wine takes sadness from the heart. When one has good wine, a graceful boat, and a maiden's love, why envy the immortal gods? Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments