If thou, my sweetest love, if thou, with me,
Wouldst share the sweet Xerex, that sweetest grape,
That loveliest of nectars, which may shape
One’s very soul, its very contours free;

That selfsame nectar I proclaim to be
The fabric, flowing as a fluid cape,
Which ribbons, over all creation drape,
Returneth me, my sweetest love, to thee.

Drink thou, this sweet elixir; know thou calm;
As will its magic sooth my restless mind;
Raise thou its crimson crystal to thy lips.

Drink we, such still, sweet, grape, such perfect balm,
And we have drunk the blood of lover’s, twined,
And conquerors who venture forth in ships.

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all: