Francis Saltus Saltus (b. 1849, New York)
There is a power within the succulent grape
That made thee, stronger than all human power.
It baffles death in its exulting hour,
And leaves its victim fortune to escape.
Thy cheering drops can magically drape
Atrocious thoughts of doom with bloom and flower,
Turning to laughing calm care’s torment sour,
And flooding dreams with many a gentle shape.
Extatic hope and resurrection lie
In thy consoling beauty, and whene’er
Pale mortals sip thee, bringing soothing peace,
I see a blue and orange-scented sky,
A warm beach blest by God’s untainted air,
Circling the snowy parapets of Nice!