Charles Hubert Hastings Parry - Grapes - текст песни (слова)

Come, boy Bacchus, a bunch of grapes,
 The bunch you dearest treasure !
 'Twill fill my soul with exquisite shapes,
 For well I know the pleasure
 Of a rich ripe grape slow pressed in the mouth
 Bringing me dreams of the lusty South,
 Of sunbrown youth
 And sun-bright maiden
 And all a laughing,
 And all a laden 
 with grapes, grapes, grapes, grapes,
 beyond all measure !
 And all a laughing
 And all a laden
 with grapes, grapes, grapes,
 beyond all measure.