Classic Poem

Sing !—Who sings
To her who weareth a hundred rings?
Ah, who is this lady fine?
The Vine , boys, the Vine !
The mother of mighty Wine.
A roamer is she
O'er wall and tree,
And sometimes very good company.

Drink!—Who drinks
To her who blusheth and never thinks?
Ah, who is this maid of thine!
The G RAPE , boys, the G RAPE !
O, never let her escape
Until she be turned to Wine!
For better is she,
Than vine can be,
And very very good company!

Dream!—who dreams
Of the God that governs a thousand streams?
Ah, who is this Spirit fine?
'Tis W INE , boys, 'tis W INE !
God Bacchus, a friend of mine.
O better is he
Than grape or tree,
And the best of all good company.