Anacreontic Poem by Thomas Moore
Anacreontic
Rating: ★3.0
Press the grape, and let it pour
Around the board its purple shower:
And, while the drops my goblet steep,
I'll think in woe the clusters weep.
Weep on, weep on, my pouting vine!
Heaven grant no tears, but tears of wine.
Weep on; and, as thy sorrows flow,
I'll taste the luxury of woe.
Saturday, October 3, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: purple,tears
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Best Poems
Best Member Poems
Best Classical Poems
New Poems
New Poets
Best Member Poets
Best Classical Poets
Explore Poems
Explore Poets
Poem Of The Day
Love Poems
Baby Poems
Death Poems
Sad Poems
Birthday Poems
Wedding Poems
Nature Poems
Sorry Poems
Hero Poems
Poetry E-Books
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
8/8/2026 12:03:21 PM # rel_20260806T081513Z_580e7f4
quite a light write.. well, in vino veritas.. ;)