Wend Ye Onto The Vintage

A poem inspired by a portrait I had seen once before.

Wend ye onto the vintage,
Beyond a hollow graveyard,
Amidst the great shortage,
O'er the valley of a vineyard.

Behold ye a sun that drapes,
The winsome harvest nigh, 
Across the rows of grapes,  
And fills thy baskets high. 

Reap ye with thine hands,
Wrought fields blooming,
Betwixt the manifold lands,
With an old steeple looming.

Toil ye the warm summers,
My weary and fain peasants, 
Till the coming of the winters, 
Amidst the sweetest currants. 

Be ye brazen and unremitting,
With thy sweat of the e'ening,
As ye strive in a godly setting,
Abreast the oak trees ripening.

Herry thy Lord that begot ye,
When thy needs were forgotten,
And astray and forlorn were ye, 
The belov'd children begotten.

Follow ye the clouds so thickly,
Beyond those crimson roses, 
As mine eyes have seen quickly,
His mighty welkin that encloses.

Hail ye the poor and wretch'd,
Who thy Lord has bless'd then,
Upon thine hearts anguish'd,
Amongst the women and men. 

Reviews

[Warrior]

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