Little sweet wine of Jurançon, <br />You are dear to my memory still! <br />With mine host and his merry song, <br />Under the rose-tree I drank my fill. <br /> <br />Twenty years after, passing that way, <br />Under the trellis I found again <br />Mine host, still sitting there au frais, <br />And singing still the same refrain. <br /> <br />The Jurançon, so fresh and bold, <br />Treats me as one it used to know; <br />Souvenirs of the days of old <br />Already from the bottle flow, <br /> <br />With glass in hand our glances met; <br />We pledge, we drink. How sour it is <br />Never Argenteuil piquette <br />Was to my palate sour as this! <br /> <br />And yet the vintage was good, in sooth; <br />The self-same juice, the self-same cask! <br />It was you, O gayety of my youth, <br />That failed in the autumnal flask!<br /><br />Henry Wadsworth Longfellow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-harbour-the-wine-of-juran-on-from-the-french-of-charles-coran/
