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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE GRAPES OF MALAGA, by FLORENCE WENNER First Line: In spain the grapes of malaga Last Line: To hell-draughts have been ground! Subject(s): Grapes; Malaga, Spain | |||
In Spain the grapes of Malaga Grow on the sunny hills; Pale, firm-fleshed grapes of Malaga From which aroma spills. Men pressed the grapes of Malaga To drink white wine aglow! But all that comes from Malaga Now has a crimson flow. Men tread the firm-fleshed fruit of earth, Turning its white to red; They crush away its bead of mirth Fermenting death instead! They use a cup the gods would drain To drown the dream of Spain. Better the grapes of Malaga Unharvested had lain; Better the wine of Malaga Thus spilt on battle's mound Flowed still in vines of Malaga Beyond the battle's sound; For firm-fleshed grapes of Malaga, The sweet pale grapes of Malaga, To hell-draughts have been ground! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUR PICNICS by FLORENCE WENNER HYMN OF THE CITY by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT SYMPHONY OF THE SOIL by EVA K. ANGLESBURG AFTER A TEMPEST by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT CRAIGIEBURN WOOD by ROBERT BURNS KATRINA ON THE PORCH; A BIT OF TURNER PUT INTO WORDS by ALICE CARY TO A FRIEND WHOM I HAD NOT SEEN SINCE MY CHILDHOOD by LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON |
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