I bring ye wine from above,
From the vats of the storied sun;
For every one of yer love,
And life for every one.
Ye shall dance on hill and level; Ye shall sing in hollow and height In the festal mystical revel, The rapurous Bacchanal rite! The rocks and trees are yours, And the waters under the hill, By the might of that which endures, The holy heaven of will! I kindle a flame like a torrent To rush from star to star; Your hair as a comet’s horrent, Ye shall see things as they are! I lift the mask of matter; I open the heart of man; For I am of force to shatter The cast that hideth -Pan! Your loves shall lap up slaughter, And dabbled with roses of blood Each desperate darling daughter Shall swim in the fervid flood.
I bring ye laughter and tears, The kisses that foam and bleed, The joys of a million years, The flowers that bear no seed.
My life is bitter and sterile, Its flame is a wandering star.
Ye shall pass in pleasure and peril Across the mystic bar That is set for wrath and weeping Against the children of earth; But ye in singing and sleeping Shall pass in measure and mirth! I lift my wand and wave you Through hill to hill of delight : My rosy rivers lave you In innermost lustral light.
I lead you, lord of the maze, In the darkness free of the sun; In spite of the spite that is day’s We are wed, we are wild, we are one.

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