An elegant, tall glass, Wrought with a craftsman's zest, Its clear-cut crystal glint Thick frosted o'er With winter's hoar. The cold, sweet, tinkling mass Bearing a fragrant crest Of lush, new-gathered mint -- A flourish done With careless grace -- Plucked from the scented gathering place, Cool, willow-hidden from the sun, Beside the fostering run. The rye's brown soul suffusing all The green-and-crystal heart of it. The sunlight and the locusts and the tall Fine-fluted glasses, all a part of it. Thus lounging in the cushioned osier chairs, Spraying with wit the good and their affairs . . . Brother! Such wit is spurious and thin; And these dead scenes -- mere decadence and sin! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SMALLISH SON by HAYDEN CARRUTH INDEPENDENCE DAY, 1956, A FAIRY TALE by JAMES GALVIN LEFT-HANDED POEM by JAMES GALVIN I WANT TO LIVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE AUDACIOUS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE GARDEN OF ADONIS by EMMA LAZARUS THE LAMP OF LIFE by AMY LOWELL |