So Noah, when he anchor'd safe on
The mountain's top, his lofty haven,
And all the passengers he bore
Were on the new world set ashore,
He made it next his chief design
To plant and propagate a vine,
Which since has overwhelm'd and drown'd
Far greater number, on dry ground,
Of wretched mankind, one by one,
Than all the flood before had done.
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I hang no ivie out to sell my wine;
The nectar of good wits will sell itself.
I hang no ivie out to sell my wine;
The nectar of good wits will sell itself.
Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his
colour in the cup, when read more
Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his
colour in the cup, when it moveth itself aright.
At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.
Bring me wine, but wine which never grew
In the belly of the grape,
Or grew on read more
Bring me wine, but wine which never grew
In the belly of the grape,
Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through
Under the Andes to the Cape,
Suffered no savor of the earth to escape.
I said, I will go up to the palm tree, I will take hold of the
boughs thereof; now read more
I said, I will go up to the palm tree, I will take hold of the
boughs thereof; now also thy breasts shall be as clusters of the
vine, and the smell of thy nose like apples;
And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that
goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to
speak.
Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires
The young, makes Weariness forget his toil,
And Fear read more
Which cheers the sad, revives the old, inspires
The young, makes Weariness forget his toil,
And Fear her danger; opens a new world
When this, the present, palls.
Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and whoever is
deceived thereby is not wise.
Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and whoever is
deceived thereby is not wise.
Ten thousand casks,
Forever dribbling out their base contents,
Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state,
read more
Ten thousand casks,
Forever dribbling out their base contents,
Touch'd by the Midas finger of the state,
Bleed gold for ministers to sport away.
Drink, and be mad then; 'tis your country bids!
"It wasn't the wine," murmured Mr. Snodgrass in a broken voice,
"it was the salmon."
"It wasn't the wine," murmured Mr. Snodgrass in a broken voice,
"it was the salmon."
Wine makes all sorts of creatures at table.
Wine makes all sorts of creatures at table.
