Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/834

 RALPH WALDO EMERSON

It may be in wood or waste At unawares 'tis come and past. Their near camp my spirit knows By signs gracious as rainbows. I thenceforward and long after Listen for their harplikc laughter, And carry in my heart, for days, Peace that hallows rudest ways.

��Bacchus

)RING me wine, but wine which never grew

In the belly of the grape, Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through Undei the Andes to the Cape, Suffered no savour of the earth to 'scape.

Let its grapes the morn salute

From a nocturnal root,

Which feels the acrid juice

Of Sux 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 cuiTd Among the silver hills of heaven Draw everlasting dewj Wine of wine, Blood of the world,

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