Let the eyes hold what the lids can contain
From the overflow of the world.
Let the cider press hold the skin and the stain
And the cider run clear and cold.
You're just playing Jerusalem against Athens
Reason and the passions
Thought into action
Strangers play Jerusalem against Athens
Just to see what happens
Just to feed the fashion for it
Two men brought low by the drinking of wine
One did but sing, the other but sigh
That skin must learn its lines
From the wilting waves and the imperfect rhyme
The tiller of the soil and the keeper of sheep
All the days of their lives, in sorrow will eat
Scoured by the wind, and the sea and the brine
As the wine-dark waves wilt into the squall line.
While you twist your lock—see, it grows grey
Pluck the strand, and throw it away
Limbs exposed by lascivious winds shine
And the waves wilt into the shoreline.
While...Let the eyes hold what the lids can contain
From the overflow of the world
Let the cider press hold the skin and the stain
And the cider run clear and cold.