I bring an unaccustomed wine
To lips long parching, next to mine,
And summon them to drink.
Emily Dickinson, I bring an unaccustomed wine

It's a fine fact that whenever I sit in a tavern corner
sipping a grappa, the pederast's there, or the kids
with their screaming, or the unemployed guy,
or some beautiful girl outside‐all breaking
the thread of my smoke. That's how it is, kid,
I'm telling it straight, I work at Lucento.
But that voice, that sorrowful voice of the old man
(forty‐ish, maybe? ) who shook my hand
one night in the cold and then walked with me back
to my house, that tone like an old cornet‐
I'll never forget it, not even in death.
He said nothing of wine, but spoke to me then
because I had suffered and was smoking a pipe.
“And pipe smokers, ” he declared, shaking a little,
“can always be trusted! ” I nodded my head.
Cesar Pavese, Sad Wine

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
W.B Yeats, A Drinking Song

Days of Wine and Roses, Andy Williams

Red Red Wine, NEIL DIAMOND

Spill The Wine, Eric Burdon & War