James Thomson (Äæåéìñ Òîìñîí)

The Vine

THE wine of Love is music,
   And the feast of Love is song:
And when Love sits down to the banquet,
   Love sits long:

Sits long and arises drunken,
   But not with the feast and the wine;
He reeleth with his own heart,
   That great, rich Vine. 

1. Sheep-Sheering
2. Verses Addressed To Amanda
3. A Poem Sacred to the Memory of Sir Isaac Newton
4. Lines On Marle Field
5. On The Death Of His Mother

Henry Pye (Ãåíðè Ïàé) The Vine ("Like clustering tents upon the embattled mead")

Ðàñïå÷àòàòü ñòèõîòâîðåíèå (Poem to print)

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