Wine enters through the mouth, Love, the eyes. I raise the glass to my mouth, I look at you, I sigh.
Gaze no more in the bitter glass The demons, with their subtle guile, Lift up before us when they pass, Or only gaze a little while....
But bear in mind your lover's wage Is what your looking-glass can show, And that he will turn green with rage At all that is not pictured there.
But stories that live longest Are sung above the glass, And Parnell loved his country And Parnell loved his lass.
The true faith discovered was When painted panel, statuary, Glass-mosaic, window-glass, Amended what was told awry By some peasant gospeler.