Welcome to the “Poem of the Month”.
Life gets busy, and poetry waits patiently for me in the corner. It’s been a few months since the last poem of the month, so here is a short but wonderful poem by William Butler Yeats, who makes his debut in the Poem of the Month. Way to go, Bill. You’ve finally broken through.
I returned from my annual Port Wine pilgrimage to Northern Portugal two days ago, so I thought the title of this month’s selection appropriate. One of the things that i never tire of in my visits to Portugal is the passion which the producers pour into their craft. This trip had some amazing contrasts. We were fortunate to visit our old friends at Quinta de Vargellas, the flagship property of The Taylor Fladgate Partnership, where we experienced a jovial and wonderfully British experience in the rugged Douro Valley.
A day later, we were sitting in a Portuguese house built in the 1600’s having a rustic meal and tasting Ports from a young wine producer who is bringing her family’s wines to a new generation of Port drinkers.
Throughout the Douro Valley, all of these producers – large, small; new, ancient; British, Portuguese – have one thing in common: a passion and a love for the country, for the tradition and for the wines they toil to produce.
Enjoy a nice glass of Port, and this month’s poetic selection…
William Butler Yeats
(1869-1939)
A Drinking Song
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That’s all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
