AT Bordeaux, when autumn had ripen'd the vine, And the natives were treading the grapes into wine, Said Jones to a friend whom he chanced there to meet, "Now the reason I know why they call it @3La Fitte."@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EVANGELINE; A TALE OF ACADIE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE SEAGULL by HERBERT BASHFORD THE DIVINE MISSION by ALFRED GIBBS CAMPBELL THE DISAPPOINTED DEMON by PATRICK REGINALD CHALMERS THE CANTERBURY TALES: THE MERCHANT'S TALE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |