Xerex, Coda: Here…

…will you find the first version as it had been penned originally so many decades ago.  The dotted lines have been added to indicate whence the sonnets come:

O, my sweetest love,
Share thou with me
The sweet Xerex

Which I do proclaim
As the nectar which
Returneth me to

Thee, my sweetest love.
Quiet my restless mind
With the still, sweet

Grape which is the
Blood of lovers and
Of conquerers.
—————————
Such is the stuff
That would quiet my
Mind and my heart

For thee, and ease
Thy pain easily
With a pure flavor,

And with little regret
From thyne Angels’ heart.
Remember thou, my love

That even in this
Cruel
Earth there art

Those elements which
Heal in their right
Proportions.
———————
Remember thou, my sweetest
Love, that many
Forms Are yielded

Up by the Fickle
Grape: The subjective
Grape yields

Up poison and
Medicine for the
Soul.
———————–
As Baudelaire, my
Father, my twin,
My dearest

Poet knew this drink was
Fine; so shall I
Proclaim: My sweetest

Love, As my
Devoted, As my
Servant, As my

Slave; bring thou
Me of the sweetest Xerex
Grape and I

Shall become returned
To that which
Thou most admireth.
————————–
But, that thou shouldst
Know:  Once I have To
thine arms return’d

Thou shalt be my
Wine and my
crystal.
————————–
Thou shalt be
Mine Angel–superior
To all the grape is

Able to be.
I shall thenceforth
Drink of thee,

My love and I
Should never again want
For wine.

Much has in me been yielded up by that fine grape so many long years ago.

Sonnet III: Her Praise

Her heart, so prayeth she, be still, this dream,
Wherein such favour, she recalleth, find;
Such things so little are, as may surprise:
So often unexpected, his attire;

In candlelight, he doth angelic seem
To glow, as though with Heaven’s light combined;
So oft remembered, sherry coloured eyes,
To her, do seem to light the world entire;

And dreameth of his words with such esteem,
So thrilling, when of heart, or though of mind;
Then beautiful his music, as so wise
She thought his words, as ever both inspire.

Supreme, thy praise doth find me; and so kind,
I blush to prize, my love–my heart’s desire.

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

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Sonnet II: Her Remembrance of Me

So sweet, that dreameth she, when dark the night,
Of he, her sweetness knew, and were as sweet
His understanding, patient of her thought,
That grew, to her remembrance, by the hour.

In these, as felt within her heart, requite;
So he, her longing knew, as made to beat
As beat his own, though she, her heart dore not–
At rest, so lonely she, within her bower.

And dreameth she, as he, of her delight;
That he, her sweetness, doth partake, when meet
They next–when they their final meeting sought–
An this be soon, so dreameth she, empower,

As so it might, our lives to make complete–
That ought, my love, with untold blessings, shower.

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

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Sonnet I: His Favour

At rest she lieth down within her bed,
Doth close long lidded eyes, though not to sleep
In her repose for soft, round limbs to rest;
And then, in longing yet, her thoughts toward him:

Of words so closely shared, or left unsaid;
Such secrets, told or not, as cause to weep;
With his remembrance tight against her prest,
Though now, so tattered, once yet thought a whim,

Her tears to calm, his favour held instead,
That holdeth now her heart in safety’s keep,
To lull, so sweet her countenance, to rest–
Then close her eyes again, as night grew dim.

And once we wed, doth dream my love now deep,
As blest, our lives entwined, as any hymn.

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

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