I HAD a friend whose path was pain -- Oppressed by all the cares of earth Life gave him little chance to drain His secret cisterns of rich mirth. His work was hasty, harassed, vexed: His dreams were laid aside, perforce, Until -- in this world, or the next.... (His trade? Newspaper man, of course!) What funded wealth of tenderness, What ingots of the heart and mind He must uneasily repress Beneath the rasping daily grind. But now and then, and with my aid, For fear his soul be wholly lost, His devoir to the grape he paid To call soul back, at any cost! Then, liberate from discipline, Undrugged by caution and control, Through all his veins came flooding in The virtued passion of his soul! His spirit bared, and felt no shame: With holy light his eyes would shine -- See Truth her acolyte reclaim After the second glass of wine! The self that life had trodden hard Aspired, was generous and free: The glowing heart that care had charred Grew flame, as it was meant to be. A pox upon the canting lot Who call the glass the Devil's shape -- A greater pox where'er some sot Defiles the honor of the grape. Then look with reverence on wine That kindles human brains uncouth -- There must be something part divine In aught that brings us nearer Truth! So -- continently skull your fumes (Here let our little sermon end) And bless this X-ray that illumes The secret bosom of your friend! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN DE CO'N PONE'S HOT by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR WINTER WITH THE GULF STREAM by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS ROBIN ADAIR by CAROLINE KEPPEL A VISION OF CONNAUGHT IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY by JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN SYMPHONY OF THE SOIL by EVA K. ANGLESBURG |