University of Virginia Library


423

AFTER SUPPING WITH A POET.

TO E. G.
You called your mystic draught Canary sack—
I drank, and dreamed of far-off Southern Seas,
And heard the wraiths of vagrant melodies;
And Joys and Hopes from some dim shade came back.
What blithe feet walked upon a grass-grown track!
What glad winds gossiped under summer trees!
You called your mystic draught Canary sack—
I drank, and dreamed of far-off Southern Seas.
This wine, from strange grapes pressed, upon my track
Let loose the band of Ancient Memories:
Now this sole cup my waywardness can please;
All other brews some fine distinction lack—
You called your magic draught Canary sack!