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The Spirit Of Wine Post by :sk1442 Category :Poems Author :William Ernest Henley Date :November 2011 Read :3444

Click below to download : The Spirit Of Wine (Format : PDF)

The Spirit Of Wine

To R. A. M. S.

The Spirit of Wine
Sang in my glass, and I listened
With love to his odorous music,
His flushed and magnificent song.

- 'I am health, I am heart, I am life!
For I give for the asking
The fire of my father, the Sun,
And the strength of my mother, the Earth.
Inspiration in essence,
I am wisdom and wit to the wise,
His visible muse to the poet,
The soul of desire to the lover,
The genius of laughter to all.

'Come, lean on me, ye that are weary!
Rise, ye faint-hearted and doubting!
Haste, ye that lag by the way!
I am Pride, the consoler;
Valour and Hope are my henchmen;
I am the Angel of Rest.

'I am life, I am wealth, I am fame:
For I captain an army
Of shining and generous dreams;
And mine, too, all mine, are the keys
Of that secret spiritual shrine,
Where, his work-a-day soul put by,
Shut in with his saint of saints -
With his radiant and conquering self -
Man worships, and talks, and is glad.

'Come, sit with me, ye that are lovely,
Ye that are paid with disdain,
Ye that are chained and would soar!
I am beauty and love;
I am friendship, the comforter;
I am that which forgives and forgets.' -

The Spirit of Wine
Sang in my heart, and I triumphed
In the savour and scent of his music,
His magnetic and mastering song.

(The end)
William Ernest Henley's poem: Spirit Of Wine

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A Wink From Hesper, Falling A Wink From Hesper, Falling

A Wink From Hesper, Falling
A wink from Hesper, fallingFast in the wintry sky,Comes through the even blue,Dear, like a word from you . . .Is it good-bye?Across the miles between usI send you sigh for sigh.Good-night, sweet friend, good-night:Till life and all take flight,Never good-bye.(The end)William Ernest Henley's poem: Wink From Hesper, Falling

The Spring, My Dear The Spring, My Dear

The Spring, My Dear
The spring, my dear,Is no longer spring.Does the blackbird singWhat he sang last year?Are the skies the oldImmemorial blue?Or am I, or are you,Grown cold?Though life be change,It is hard to bearWhen the old sweet airSounds forced and strange.To be out of tune,Plain You and I . . .It were better to die,And soon!(The end)William Ernest Henley's poem: Spring, My Dear