<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=448126" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Spilling Of The Wine</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The soldiers lie upon the snow,<br>That no longer gyrates under the spinning lights<br>Night juggles in her fat black hands.<br>They will not babble any more secrets to loose-mouthed <br>nights<br>Expanding in golden auras, <br>While sleigh-bells jingle like new coins the darkness <br>shuffles . . .<br>They will not drink any more wine— <br>Wine of the Romanoffs, <br>Jewelled wine <br>The secret years worked slowly at <br>Till it was wrought to fire, <br>As stones are faceted <br>Until they give out light. <br>The soldiers lie very still. <br>Their shadows have shrunk up close <br>As toads shrink under a stone; <br>And night and silence, <br>The ancient cronies, <br>Foregather above them. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">But still over the snow, that is white as a ram's fleece, <br>Arms swing like scythes . . . <br>And shadows in austere lines<br>Sway in a monstrous and mysterious ritual—<br>Shadows of the Kronstad sailors<br>Pouring blood and wine. . .<br>Wine<br>Spurting out of flagons in a spray of amethyst and gold,<br>Creeping in purple sluices;<br>Wine<br>And blood in thin bright streams<br>Besprinkling the immaculate snow;<br>Blood, high-powered with the heat of old vineyards,<br>Boring . . . into the cool snow . . .<br>Blood and wine<br>Mingling in bright pools<br>That suck at the lights of Petrograd<br>As dying eyes<br>Suck in their last sunset.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The night has a rare savor.<br>Out of the snow-piles—altar-high and colored as by a<br>rosy sacrifice— Scented vapor<br>Ascends in a pale incense . . . <br>Faint astringent perfume <br>Of blood and wine.</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=448126" data-title="The Spilling Of The Wine de Lola Ridge" data-description="The soldiers lie upon the snow, That no longer gyrates under the spinning lights Night juggles in her fat black hands. They will not babble any more secrets to loose-mouthed nights Expanding in golden auras, While sleigh-bells jingle like new co..."></div> </div> </div>

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