THE SMELL OF GRAPES.
89
The Smell of Grapes.
Oh! fine as musk, invisible,
Impalpable—as odors are—
Luxurious and wonderful
As essence from those isles afar
Where sweet amomum, cinnamon,
And all delicious spices grow,
Is their perfume, for dew and sun
And rain combine to make it so.
Impalpable—as odors are—
Luxurious and wonderful
As essence from those isles afar
Where sweet amomum, cinnamon,
And all delicious spices grow,
Is their perfume, for dew and sun
And rain combine to make it so.
And while beneath an autumn sky
The atmosphere is redolent,
Within my hammock long I lie,
And breathe the grapes' unrivaled scent;
Then close my eyes and dream I see,
Beyond Atlantic's broad expanse,
The vineyard slopes of Italy,
Or vintages of happy France.
The atmosphere is redolent,
Within my hammock long I lie,
And breathe the grapes' unrivaled scent;
Then close my eyes and dream I see,
Beyond Atlantic's broad expanse,
The vineyard slopes of Italy,
Or vintages of happy France.
Judea's hills before me rise,
That "milk-and-honey" land renowned
In Bible story, where the spies
The famous "grapes of Eshcol" found.
Upon the air of Palestine
What must have been the burden great
Of fragrance, equaling the mean
Of their recorded size and weight!
That "milk-and-honey" land renowned
In Bible story, where the spies
The famous "grapes of Eshcol" found.
Upon the air of Palestine
What must have been the burden great
Of fragrance, equaling the mean
Of their recorded size and weight!
