| There sat two glasses filled to the brim |
| On a rich man's table, rim to rim, |
| One was ruddy and red as blood, |
| And one was clear as the crystal flood. |
| |
| Said the Glass of Wine to his paler brother: |
| "Let us tell tales of the past to each other; |
| I can tell of banquet and revel and mirth, |
| Where I was king, for I ruled in might; |
| For the proudest and grandest souls of earth |
| Fell under my touch, as though struck with blight. |
| From the heads of kings I have torn the crown; |
| From the heights of fame I have hurled men down. |
| I have blasted many an honored name; |
| I have taken virtue and given shame; |
| I have tempted youth with a sip, a taste, |
| That has made his future a barren waste. |
| Far greater than any king am I, |
| Or than any army beneath the sky. |
| I have made the arm of the driver fail, |
| And sent the train from the iron rail. |
| I have made good ships go down at sea. |
| And the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me. |
| Fame, strength, wealth, genius before me fall; |
| And my might and power are over all! |
| Ho, ho, pale brother," said the Wine, |
| "Can you boast of deeds as great as mine?" |
| |
| Said the Water Glass: "I cannot boast |
| Of a king dethroned, or a murdered host; |
| But I can tell of hearts that were sad, |
| By my crystal drops made bright and glad; |
| Of thirsts I have quenched and brows I have laved, |
| Of hands I have cooled, and souls I have saved. |
| I have leaped through the valley, dashed down the mountain, |
| Slipped from the sunshine, and dripped from the fountain, |
| I have burst my cloud-fetters, and dropped from the sky, |
| And everywhere gladdened the prospect and eye; |
| I have eased the hot forehead of fever and pain, |
| I have made the parched meadows grow fertile with grain. |
| I can tell of the powerful wheel of the mill, |
| That ground out the flour, and turned at my will. |
| I can tell of manhood debased by you |
| That I have uplifted and crowned anew; |
| I cheer, I help, I strengthen and aid, |
| I gladden the heart of man and maid; |
| |
| I set the wine-chained captive free, |
| And all are better for knowing me." |
| |
| These are the tales they told each other, |
| The Glass of Wine, and its paler brother, |
| As they sat together, filled to the brim, |
| On a rich man's table, rim to rim. |
| |
| Ella Wheeler Wilcox. |
