Explore "Wine from these Grapes" by Edna St. Vincent Millay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Wine from these grapes I shall be treacling surely / Morning and noon and night until I die.
Stained with these grapes I shall lie down to die.
If you would speak with me on any matter, / At any time, come where these grapes are grown;
And you will find me treading them to must.
Lean then above me sagely, lest I spatter / Drops of the wine I tread from grapes and dust.
Stained with these grapes I shall lie down to die.
Three women come to wash me clean / Shall not erase this stain.
Nor leave me lying purely, / Awaiting the black lover.
Death, fumbling to uncover / My body in his bed, / Shall know / There has been one
Before him.