GRAPE BLOOM.
I WALK ’mid vines which rest uponAn arbor o’er a garden wayWhere southern breezes come to playAnd never-ending races run.The dew drips from the clustering vines,A swallow like a shuttle cleavesThe air above and vainly weavesHis fancies into unseen lines.But stealing forth and dwelling thereWithin the shadows of the walk,A perfume comes as when gods talkAnd their glad breathings fill the air.Scarce seen among the vines the shapesThat hold and throw the rare perfume—The tiny bits of early bloomPresageful of the coming grapes.And when they ripened grace the vine,That sweetness shall return again,Like hopes fulfilled to trustful men,And have new life in autumn’s wine.
I WALK ’mid vines which rest uponAn arbor o’er a garden wayWhere southern breezes come to playAnd never-ending races run.The dew drips from the clustering vines,A swallow like a shuttle cleavesThe air above and vainly weavesHis fancies into unseen lines.But stealing forth and dwelling thereWithin the shadows of the walk,A perfume comes as when gods talkAnd their glad breathings fill the air.Scarce seen among the vines the shapesThat hold and throw the rare perfume—The tiny bits of early bloomPresageful of the coming grapes.And when they ripened grace the vine,That sweetness shall return again,Like hopes fulfilled to trustful men,And have new life in autumn’s wine.
I WALK ’mid vines which rest uponAn arbor o’er a garden wayWhere southern breezes come to playAnd never-ending races run.
I WALK ’mid vines which rest upon
An arbor o’er a garden way
Where southern breezes come to play
And never-ending races run.
The dew drips from the clustering vines,A swallow like a shuttle cleavesThe air above and vainly weavesHis fancies into unseen lines.
The dew drips from the clustering vines,
A swallow like a shuttle cleaves
The air above and vainly weaves
His fancies into unseen lines.
But stealing forth and dwelling thereWithin the shadows of the walk,A perfume comes as when gods talkAnd their glad breathings fill the air.
But stealing forth and dwelling there
Within the shadows of the walk,
A perfume comes as when gods talk
And their glad breathings fill the air.
Scarce seen among the vines the shapesThat hold and throw the rare perfume—The tiny bits of early bloomPresageful of the coming grapes.
Scarce seen among the vines the shapes
That hold and throw the rare perfume—
The tiny bits of early bloom
Presageful of the coming grapes.
And when they ripened grace the vine,That sweetness shall return again,Like hopes fulfilled to trustful men,And have new life in autumn’s wine.
And when they ripened grace the vine,
That sweetness shall return again,
Like hopes fulfilled to trustful men,
And have new life in autumn’s wine.