<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=448088" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Iron Wine</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The ore in the crucible is pungent, smelling like acrid wine,<br>It is dusky red, like the ebb of poppies,<br>And purple, like the blood of elderberries.<br>Surely it is a strong wine - juice distilled of the fierce iron.<br>I am drunk of its fumes.<br>I feel its fiery flux<br>Diffusing, permeating,<br>Working some strange alchemy…<br>So that I turn aside from the goodly board,<br>So that I look askance upon the common cup,<br>And from the mouths of crucibles<br>Suck forth the acrid sap.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Lola+Ridge">Lola Ridge</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=448088" data-title="Iron Wine de Lola Ridge" data-description="The ore in the crucible is pungent, smelling like acrid wine, It is dusky red, like the ebb of poppies, And purple, like the blood of elderberries. Surely it is a strong wine - juice distilled of the fierce iron. I am drunk of its fumes. I feel it..."></div> </div> </div>

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