And out of months the years arise.
Wilt thou be master of the wise,
Then learn the hidden stream to know,
That from the inmost heart doth flow.
WINE AND GRIEF.
With heavy groans did I approach my friends.
Heavy as though the mountains I would move.
The flagon they were murdering; they poured
Into the cup, wild-eyed, the grape's red blood.
No they killed not, they breathed new life therein.