SONG, the chariot of delight, Thrasybulus, here I send. When the feasters make an end, Song shall rouse them, and invite To speed the Vine-god on his way In the cups of Attica. Then our weary cares are gone, Hearts within are free and bold; Breaking on the seas of gold There we sail where all are one; Wealth fantastic lures our eyes Onward to a shore of lies. Who was penniless before Holds a fortune in his hands; Who was rich, in power expands, Dreaming still of wealth the more. So our vanquished hearts incline, Shot by arrows of the vine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DREAM by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE FIRESIDE by NATHANIEL COTTON ECHO by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI L.E.L. by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI SUPER FLUMINA BABYLONIS by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE AFFLICTION OF MARGARET by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH AGAMEMNON: HELEN. CHORUS by AESCHYLUS |