Читать книгу Graham's Magazine Vol XXXII No. 6 June 1848 - Various - Страница 6

Bring me the juice of the honey fruit,

The large translucent, amber-hued,

Rare grapes of southern isles, to suit

The luxury that fills my mood.

And bring me only such as grew

Where rarest maidens tent the bowers,

And only fed by rain and dew

Which first had bathed a bank of flowers.

They must have hung on spicy trees

In airs of far enchanted vales,

And all night heard the ecstasies

Of noble-throated nightingales:

So that the virtues which belong

To flowers may therein tasted be —

And that which hath been thrilled with song

May give a thrill of song to me.

For I would wake that string for thee

Which hath too long in silence hung,

And sweeter than all else should be

The song which in thy praise is sung.