 | Claribel and Other Poems |  |
198
WINE SONG
Let the purple wine o'erbrim the golden beaker,
Pouring o'er the Bacchants richly sculptured there;
Never cease thy song-stream, eloquentest speaker!
Ne'er, till all believe, thy sweet discoursing spare.
Pouring o'er the Bacchants richly sculptured there;
Never cease thy song-stream, eloquentest speaker!
Ne'er, till all believe, thy sweet discoursing spare.
Quickly pour the wine from out the fruit-lipp'd beaker;
Whisper to us, Bacchus! how this life is fair;
Speak out roundly, Wine-god! fortunatest seeker!
Thou most true bliss-finder! tell us how and where.
Whisper to us, Bacchus! how this life is fair;
Speak out roundly, Wine-god! fortunatest seeker!
Thou most true bliss-finder! tell us how and where.
Let again the flood o'erbrim the perfect beaker;
Lift our hearts, Ascender! make our lives thy care;
Yet, yet once more bless—Thy voice is growing weaker—
Bless us with those ripe lips, on this heaven-stair.
Lift our hearts, Ascender! make our lives thy care;
Yet, yet once more bless—Thy voice is growing weaker—
Bless us with those ripe lips, on this heaven-stair.
| Claribel and Other Poems | |