Classic Poem

A VINEYARD SONG

Unwreathe thy brow! Thy cheek outvies
The golden grape in lustres rare;
The rosebud of thy mouth denies
The living rosebud hanging there;
Nor teach the radiance of thy eyes
To counterfeit the starry air;
From all things else the beauty dies
When thou art near, though they are fair;
Star, rose and grape but mirrors warm
Of loves that from thy beauty swarm,
Thy brief, incarnate shades; in thee
The world returns to unity.

Unwreathe thyself, and singly shine
Wine of the world, the rose-divine
Body of love, desire star-sown
That sparkles in the midnight zone, —
All beauty cast in passion's mould
In thee corporeally bright, —
O Dionysian bloom, unfold!
Crown, crown the revel's height,
Sweet reveller! The golden cheek,
Thy rosebud mouth, thy radiant eyes,
A darling of the gods bespeak,
Who take thee to the skies;
With hands divinely holding up,
As 'twere youth's flower, the vine-clad cup,
Drink deep, O heavy-breathing boy,
Crush on thy lips long draughts of joy!

Then bear with thee to heaven along
The wisdom of the vineyard song;
Chime and charm thou mayst not bear,
For the shadows' source reigns there;
And when thou puttest thy beauty by,
And shall at last unwreathe thee quite,
Like stars that on the distant sky
Suddenly beam, and cease from light; —
For who may know what shall befall
After the whole earth's funeral?
And who may know what there shall be
Without the senses' imagery? —
Ah, when the grape and rose shall shed
Their bloom, and garden-mould shall be,
Reveal, all beauty being dead,
Love's imageless eternity!