Sing! Who sings To her who weareth a hundred rings? Ah, who is this lady fine? The Vine, boys, the Vine! The mother of mighty Wine. A roamer is she O'er wall and tree And sometimes very good company. Drink! Who drinks To her who blusheth and never thinks? Ah, who is this maid of thine? The Grape, boys, the Grape! O, never let her escape Until she be turned to Wine! For better is she Than vine can be, And very, very good company! Dream!—Who dreams Of the God that governs a thousand streams? Ah, who is this Spirit fine? 'Tis Wine, boys, 'tis Wine! God Bacchus, a friend of mine. O better is he Than grape or tree And the best of all good company. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PUSSY-WILLOW TIME by ROBERT FROST PENITENTIAL PSALM: 6. DOMINE NE IN FURORE by THOMAS WYATT I SIT AND SEW by ALICE RUTH MOORE DUNBAR-NELSON SHE IS FAR FROM THE LAND by THOMAS MOORE THE CENTAUR'S FAREWELL by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |