0334 In vino veritas, in birra bonitas: In Praise of Grape and Hop

When heavy hangs the soul - if soul there be
in such a state of abject loneliness -
and all Creation's steeped in misery
and all bad influences join life's mess,

and melancholy blackens; hope recedes;
faith's gone; and love and charity lie hid;
and nothing seems good for the mind to heed,
no action springs to mind to lift the lid
that sits, black monster, on the love of truth,
of goodness, beauty - all this gone from hence;

then - wine, that warms the heart of man, must serve;
and hops, that give of God's benevolence:
and at the measured glass's end - God bless -
the possibility of happiness...

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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