I O grant me, kind Bacchus, The God of the Vine, Not a pipe nor a tun, But an ocean of wine, With a ship that's well manned With such rare-hearted fellows, Who ne'er left the tavern For a porterly alehouse. II Let the ship spring a leak, To let in the tipple, Without pump or logboat To save ship or people: So that each jolly lad May always be bound, Or to drink, or to drink, Or to drink, or be drowned. III When death does prevail, It is my design To be nobly entombed In a wave of good wine: So that living or dead, Both body and spirit, May float round the world In an ocean of claret. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUR WORLD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON AQUATINT FRAMED IN GOLD by AMY LOWELL |