Grapes
Hubert Parry, Julian Sturgis
Come, boy Bacchus, a bunch of grapes
The bunch you dearest treasure !
'Twill fill my soul with exquisite shapes
For well I know the pleasure
Of a rich ripe grape slow pressed in the mouth
Bringing me dreams of the lusty South
Of sunbrown youth
And sun-bright maiden
And all a laughing
And all a laden
With grapes, grapes, grapes, grapes
Beyond all measure !
And all a laughing
And all a laden
With grapes, grapes, grapes
Beyond all measure