Poems with rhymes of rhine

But tell me, Nymphs, what power divine
Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine ?

While runs the Rhine—
He and I—revel—
First—at the vat—and latest at the Vine—

There were three cavaliers that went over the Rhine,
And gayly they called to the hostess for wine.

Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!

The foe thrust back unsafe beyond the Rhine,
If I was not to speak of it to you
And see you pleased once more with words of mine?

Thou would'st forego the neighbouring Rhine,
And all his majesty--
A studious forehead to incline

Are twisted glasses, ruby-sparked with wine,
Clarets and ports. Those topaz bumpers were
Drained from slim, long-necked bottles of the Rhine.

There grows no vine
By the haunted Rhine,

Figures in color and design
Like those by Rembrandt of the Rhine,

Who dress the hills of vine,
The tales that haunt the Brocken
And whisper down the Rhine.

The day's last splendors shine
And rich with many a radiant hue
Gleam gayly on the Rhine.

Common to all all wheat and wine
Over the seas and up the Rhine.

Aping the leisured sloths of wine
That dreams of Tiber or the Rhine,

Like a Londsman fon der Rhine--
Und I klingk my glass togeder
Mit dot leedle boy of mine!

Huger than those which, from steep hills of vine,
Stare through their loopholes on the travelled Rhine;

Yet one day to claim her mine.
Here, beyond this shadowy Rhine,

One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine,
When he called the flowers, so blue and golden,
Stars, that in earth's firmament do shine.

When thy young Muse invoked the tuneful Nine,
To say how Louis did not pass the Rhine,

WHERE on the bosom of the foamy RHINE,
In curling waves the rapid waters shine;

The old, enchanted dream-song of the Rhine,
Although his house of life. is fair with shine