Come to the vintage feast! The west wind sighs 'mid the stately flowers That deck so brightly our garden bowers, Flowers which awoke as the summer died, To rival her many-colored pride, Flowers whose rich tint and gorgeous dye An eastern monarch's pomp outvie. Come to the vintage feast! The sun shines out, but a soft mist lies Like a gossamer veil o'er the autumn skies, The air has stolen its sweet perfume From the crimson clover's rich beds of bloom, And the insect hum is as musical still As if summer yet ruled over valley and hill. Come to the vintage feast! The vine bends down with its purple fruit, The foliage lies thick round its gnarled root, For the leaves are dropping as if to show The purple clusters that lie below, And the tendrils close round the lattice twine, As if asking support for the burdened vine. Come to the vintage feast! In Hebe's temple is spread the board With the golden treasures of autumn stored; The sun of our native skies has shed O'er the ripened fruitage its glowing red; But the grapes that grow 'neath a warmer heaven The sparkling wine to our feast has given; Then come and awaken the choral hymn, While the bead-drop foams on the beaker's brim. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LYRICS TO IANTHE (2). LAMENT by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR AUTUMN: A DIRGE by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY WISTFULNESS by KATHARINE ADAMS MOON OF LOVELINESS by MUHAMMAD AL-MU'TAMID II A LETTER by PHILIP JAMES BAILEY A GLORY GONE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |