Too well, he knew; did Baudelaire, my twin
Of spirit, forebear of my soul; and knew,
As only he, my dearest poet, grew
To know; this drink was fine, as knew he sin.
So I thereof proclaim to thee, who’s been
My sweetest love, as my devoted, who
For all thy sorrow; as my servant, do
Afore the morrow; as my slave: Begin;
Goe; bring thou me that nectar of my soul,
That finest thing of sweetest Xerex grape,
And wilt thou see, I shall become returned
As he, who thou admirest, the whole
Of me, thy bliss desirest, as burned
Thine heart; and nary, snared as this, escape.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
David Emeron: Sonnets 
In peace, I do go
That blessed nectar to seek
May it give you ease
My love, take these tears
To quench the thirst of your soul
I shed them in joy
But soft, and drink now
Breathe the vapors and know me
Read my heart’s message
In peace I sleep now
With joy I will awaken
I dance now at home
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How beautiful, love!
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Such a beautiful thing you’ve written, my dearest, I feel it calls me to itself, to give it more attention than to be hidden away within a tiny comment box.
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You are too kind.
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I am enjoying the rhyme scheme in the piece this morning.
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I was dreaming of you when I wrote the original, and these sonnets reflected from it seemed to flow like water–or rather, sherry.
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Someday you must teach me to enjoy the Xerex. It is certain I have never tasted Sherry.
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Strangely…. I am not sure I have ever tasted fine Oleroso since that time–or if I have… it was not in that painful solitude, so it made no lasting impression, as did that first time.
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We’ll try the Oleroso without the painful solitude, deal?
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It’s a date!
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