But In The Wine-Presses The Human Grapes Sing Not Nor Dance
But in the Wine-presses the human grapes sing not nor dance: They howl and writhe in shoals of torment, in fierce flames consuming, In chains of iron and in dungeons circled with ceaseless fires, In pits and dens and shades of death, in shapes of torment and woe: The plates and screws and racks and saws and cords and fires and cisterns The cruel joys of Luvah's Daughters, lacerating with knives And whips their victims, and the deadly sport of Luvah's Sons. They dance around the dying and they drink the howl and groan, They catch the shrieks in cups of gold, they hand them to one another: These are the sports of love, and these the sweet delights of amorous play, Tears of the grape, the death sweat of the cluster, the last sigh Of the mild youth who listens to the luring songs of Luvah.
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"But in the Wine-presses the human grapes sing not nor dance:..."
This evocative piece by William Blake, titled "But In The Wine-Presses The Human Grapes Sing Not Nor Dance", represents a masterful exploration of classic. The lines capture a profound emotional resonance... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...