VINICULTURE
I love the architecture
of a vine,
And Vitis Coignetiae above them all:
Its plump and angle-jointed stems, the fine
Deep veining of its leathern cordate leaves,
Thick, coiling tendrils clutching at the wall,
Enabling quick ascent toward the eaves.
And Vitis Henryana, slim of stem,
Of vines a lady delicately fair,
And coyly clinging on bare brick; a gem
She is, her malachite, pink-fingered leaves
Luxurious as satin -- though I fear
She may not quite attain the highest eaves.
Now Vitis Flexuosa; what a neat
Trim vine it is, whose slender stems invade
The merest cranny, reaching greater height
Than kindred vines. Its compact, bronze-green leaves
Do ripple liquidly in soft cascade:
Heraldic shields festooned along the eaves.
What of Vitis Inconstans, my old friend
The ampelopsis, serviceable, dull?
Obliging, it will always spread and lend
A cloak of Brunswick Green, its fanned-out leaves
Among the mingled climbers on the wall,
Insinuating branches to the eaves.
Stanley
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