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Normale Version: GRAPES OF ESCHOL
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GRAPES OF ESCHOL

WONDERING they came; they had strange tales to tell
Of purple hills and valleys half divine,
Of amber plains which did like morning shine,
And cool, clear springs which ever did upwell.

Wistful they came ; and 'twixt them, like a bell,
Swung downward the dark grapes, the goodly sign
Of plenty in a land of oil and wine —
The goal of rest to way-worn Israel :

So I, a spy from realms where Summer sings
'Mid billowy fields with radiant blossoms starred,
Bring these the promisers of rarer things

That wait the coming of the chosen bard —
The shining soul who seeks life's mystic springs,
And counts no knowledge vain, no journeys hard.