AT Bordeaux, when autumn had ripen'd the vine, And the natives were treading the grapes into wine, Said Jones to a friend whom he chanced there to meet, "Now the reason I know why they call it @3La Fitte."@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: EUGENIA TODD by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HIS SAVIOURS WORDS, GOING TO THE CROSSE by ROBERT HERRICK THE WEST WIND by JOHN MASEFIELD SONNET: 65 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE SINCERE FLATTERY OF R.B. by JAMES KENNETH STEPHEN |