The Vintager.
Among the fragrant grapes she bows; Long, violet clusters heap her hands; About her satyr throats and brows Flush at her smiled commands. And from her sun-burnt throat at times, As bubbles burst on new-made wine, A happy fit of merry rhymes Rings down the hills of vine. From out one heart, remorseless sweet, She plucked the big-grape passion there; Trod in the wine-press of her feet, It grew into despair: Until she drained its honeyed must, Which, tingling inward part by part, Fierce mounted thro' her glowing bust And centered in her heart.
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"Among the fragrant grapes she bows;..."
This evocative piece by Madison Julius Cawein, titled "The Vintager.", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...