This was written by John Keats in a letter to a friend dated January 31, 1818. He introduced it by saying, "I purposed to write to you a serious poetical letter... Yet I cannot write in prose, it is a sun-shiny day and I cannot so here goes." This poem is sometimes combined with "God of the meridian" into a poem called "A draught of sunshine."
Hence burgundy, claret, and port
Hence burgundy, claret, and port,
Away with old hock and madeira!
Too earthly ye are for my sport;
There's a beverage brighter and clearer!
Instead of a pitiful rummer,
My wine overbrims a whole summer;
My bowl is the sky,
And I drink at my eye,
Till I feel in the brain
A Delphian pain--
Then follow, my Caius, then follow!
On the green of the hill,
We will drink our fill
Of golden sunshine,
Till our brains intertwine
With the glory and grace of Apollo!