Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE BOTTLES AND THE WINE, by GEORGE SANTAYANA Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: Would you have an illustration Last Line: To the bottles and the wine. Subject(s): Alcoholism & Alcoholics | ||||||||
(LINES READ AT THE REUNION OF A COLLEGE CLUB) Would you have an illustration Of the thing we fellows are? Liken every generation To the bottles in the bar: Vessels full of precious liquor Standing in their brave array, -- Never bosom friends were thicker Or of franker heart than they, There congenially hobnobbing, Always ready for a bout, As half laughing and half sobbing The fine spirits bubble out. We buy, break, drink, waste, decant them -- Bottles come and bottles go -- Yet there always, when you want them, Stand the bottles in a row: Port and sherry, rum and brandy, Irish, Bourbon, Scotch, and rye, Always smiling, always handy When the heart's a trifle dry. Though the bottles change their label And tag on another name, They're as welcome at the table, For the liquor's still the same. Days gone by saw jugs in plenty, Now less frequently on view. Every year some ten or twenty Pass to fields and pastures new. There, replenished, they grow fatter And their bellies bulge amain, But though full as yet of matter, You may mark a certain drain, For the busy world's contention Brings the liquid down a bit, And a small god I won't mention Sometimes takes a pull at it. Yet apart from some mischances, Though not standing where they stood, For big dinners and small dances Our old bottles still are good. But when once the dregs are emptied, We throw bottles in a heap, Not one favourite exempted, Were its spirit fine or cheap. They're doled out in the back alley By the scrawny hands of hags When gaunt Death comes shilly-shally Crying, "Bottles and old rags!" What of that? While face and feature, Manners, minds, and pleasures pass, Nature breeds a younger creature, Mate to what the other was, And the sports we had forsaken, And the fancies blown away In the brighter souls they waken Live for ever and a day. The proud glories that entice us No more fail because we pass Than the founts of Dionysus For the quaffing of a glass. But what happens to the liquor? The old bottles' fate to share, Only that its flight is quicker Up the vortices of air? Is it lost as soon as tasted, Rising upon moth-like wings To be caught and scorched and wasted In this foolish flame of things? Ah, the blood of nature's spilling Trickles back into her veins, And her cup is ever filling With the vintage that she strains. For a moment she befriends us With unsealing of our eyes, But the light of life she lends us Floods her everlasting skies. The sweet wine that makes our passion Linking heart to mortal heart Is her ancient fire to fashion All the marvels of her art. It has painted woman's beauty, It is parent to the flowers, It has wedded joy to duty, Portioned loves among the hours, Built us palaces and churches, Plucked its music from the lyre, Lighted all the spirit's searches Through the mazes of desire, Yes, and scorning earthly places And our human loves and wars It has peopled heaven's spaces And has gilded heaven's stars. Drink, then, of this cup and drain it. Let the wine renew the soul, And all vessels that contain it, May they long be sound and whole To receive the boon and give it That makes mortal joys divine. Here's to life and all who live it, To the bottles and the wine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NO NONSENSE by CHARLES BUKOWSKI THE REPLACEMENTS by CHARLES BUKOWSKI BELLEVUE EXCHANGE by NORMAN DUBIE EVEN NOW YOU ARE LEAVING by TESS GALLAGHER ANY NEWS FROM ALPHA CENTAURI by ANSELM HOLLO |
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