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bacchus. - Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, vol. 9 (Poems) [1909]

Edition used:

The Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, in 12 vols. Fireside Edition (Boston and New York, 1909).

Part of: The Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, in 12 vols. (Fireside Edition).

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bacchus.

    • Bring me wine, but wine which never grew
    • In the belly of the grape,
    • Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through
    • Under the Andes to the Cape,
    • Suffer no savor of the earth to scape.
    • Let its grapes the morn salute
    • From a nocturnal root,
    • Which feels the acrid juice
    • Of Styx and Erebus;
    • And turns the woe of Night,
    • By its own craft, to a more rich delight.
    • We buy ashes for bread;
    • We buy diluted wine;
    • Give me of the true,—
    • Whose ample leaves and tendrils curled
    • Among the silver hills of heaven
    • Draw everlasting dew;
    • Wine of wine,
    • Blood of the world,
    • Form of forms, and mould of statures,
    • That I intoxicated,
    • And by the draught assimilated,
    • May float at pleasure through all natures;
    • The bird-language rightly spell,
    • And that which roses say so well.
    • Wine that is shed
    • Like the torrents of the sun
    • Up the horizon walls,
    • Or like the Atlantic streams, which run
    • When the South Sea calls.
    • Water and bread,
    • Food which needs no transmuting,
    • Rainbow-flowering, wisdom-fruiting,
    • Wine which is already man,
    • Food which teach and reason can.
    • Wine which Music is,—
    • Music and wine are one,—
    • That I, drinking this,
    • Shall hear far Chaos talk with me;
    • Kings unborn shall walk with me;
    • And the poor grass shall plot and plan
    • What it will do when it is man.
    • Quickened so, will I unlock
    • Every crypt of every rock.
    • I thank the joyful juice
    • For all I know;—
    • Winds of remembering
    • Of the ancient being blow,
    • And seeming-solid walls of use
    • Open and flow.
    • Pour, Bacchus! the remembering wine;
    • Retrieve the loss of me and mine!
    • Vine for vine be antidote,
    • And the grape requite the lote!
    • Haste to cure the old despair,—
    • Reason in Nature's lotus drenched,
    • The memory of ages quenched;
    • Give them again to shine;
    • Let wine repair what this undid;
    • And where the infection slid,
    • A dazzling memory revive;
    • Refresh the faded tints,
    • Recut the aged prints,
    • And write my old adventures with the pen
    • Which on the first day drew,
    • Upon the tablets blue,
    • The dancing Pleiads and eternal men.