In the glad revels, in the happy fêtes,

When cheeks are flushed, and glasses gilt and pearled

With the sweet wine of France that concentrates

The sunshine and the beauty of the world

Drink sometimes, you whose footsteps yet may tread

The undisturbed, delightful paths of Earth,

To those whose blood, in pious duty shed,

Hallows the soil where that same wine had birth.

…

Drink to them – amorous of dear Earth as well,

They asked no tribute lovelier than this –

And in the wine that ripened where they fell

Oh, frame your lips as though it were a kiss.

Extract from ‘Champagne’, 1914–15, by Alan Seeger