At noon I left the vineyard
With a wineskin newly full
But soon a half libation lost
While running down the hill.

But though I longed to share a taste
With some fair passerby,
I stumbled, and the last drops dyed
The ground beneath a tree.

Athirst and lonely, all my dreams
Of feasts and love resigned,
When suddenly the ground broke forth
And upward rose a vine.

At last I raised my trembling hands
And plucked its yield in haste,
And found the fruit that I expressed
Surpassed the last in taste.

And so I left my garden tomb
And—drunken with delight—
I sang that Love would be my portion
'Ere I reached the night!