MANY are the wand-bearers; Their windy shouts I hear, Along the hillside vineyard, And where the wine runs clear; They show the vine-leaf chaplet, The ivy-wreathen spear; But the god, the true Iacchus, He does not hold them dear. Many are the wand-bearers, And bravely are they clad; Yes, they have all the tokens His early lovers had. They sing the master passions, Themselves unsad, unglad; And the god, the true Iacchus -- He knows they are not mad! Many are the wand-bearers; The fawn-skin bright they wear; There are among them maenads That rave with unbound hair. They toss the harmless firebrand -- It spends itself in air; And the god, the true Iacchus, He smiles -- and does not care. Many are the wand-bearers; And who (ye ask) am I? One who was born in madness, "Evoe!" my first cry -- Who dares, before your spear-points, To challenge and defy; And the god, the true Iacchus, So keep me till I die! Many are the wand-bearers. I bear with me no sign; Yet, I was mad, was drunken, Ere yet I tasted wine; Nor bleeding grape can slacken The thirst wherewith I pine; And the god, the true Iacchus, Hears now this song of mine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY [OR, DAFFYDOWNDILLY] by MOTHER GOOSE THE MORAL WARFARE by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE GOLDEN ODES OF PRE-ISLAMIC ARABIA: IMR EL KAIS by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE NICEST STORY by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN BETSY LEE by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN PHILLY AND WILLY - A DUET by ROBERT BURNS |