THE Feast's begun And the Wine is done, So my sad tears run Like streams of water, streams of water. Three score and ten were Wine's bold braves, But a full score more were Water's knaves, And silent are our watery graves. For—whence tuneful note? When the minstrel's throat Tastes naught but Water, Water, Water! Around the board you see no smile; Untasted dishes rest in file, How can I touch these dainties while There stands my cup To the brim filled up With hated Water, Water, Water! Old Moses chid the Red Sea tide, And Egypt's dusky streams he dried, Till Pharaoh's fools for Water cried! But Moses dear, Why dost thou here Turn all to Water, hated Water? Can I myself to aught compare? To the frog who damp in watery lair, With dismal croakings fills the air. So frog and I Will sing or cry, The song of Water, the dirge of Water. The man whom water can delight For aught I care may turn Nazirite; Total abstention shall be his plight! And all his days To his lips shall raise Cups of Water, always Water! The Feast is done, And Wine there's none; So my sad tears run Like streams of Water, streams of Water. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MANY SOLDIERS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE PICTURE (VENUS RECLINING) by EZRA POUND ON VISITING THE TOMB OF BURNS by JOHN KEATS SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 90 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE BALLOON MAN by JEAN M. BATCHELOR |