 | Poems |  |
73
CHERRIES AND GRAPES.
Not the cherries' nerveless flesh,
However fair, however fresh,
May ever hope my love to win
For Ethiop blood and satin skin.
However fair, however fresh,
May ever hope my love to win
For Ethiop blood and satin skin.
Their luster rich and deep their dye;
Yet under all their splendors lie—
That which I cannot tribute grant—
Their hateful hearts of adamant.
Yet under all their splendors lie—
That which I cannot tribute grant—
Their hateful hearts of adamant.
I love the amber globes that hold
That dead-delicious wine of gold;
A thousand torrid suns distill
Such liquors as these flagons fill.
That dead-delicious wine of gold;
A thousand torrid suns distill
Such liquors as these flagons fill.
Yet tropic gales with souls of musk
Should steep my grapes in steams of dusk:
And orient Eden nothing lacks
To spice their purple silken sacks.
Should steep my grapes in steams of dusk:
And orient Eden nothing lacks
To spice their purple silken sacks.
| Poems | |