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 vapours and know me
Read my heart’s message
In peace I sleep now
With joy I will awaken
I dance now at home
Remember thou, that shalt thou ‘ever be,
For all of time, mine angel, and my sweet
Respite, that cup for which my heart shall beat,
Superior in infinite degree
To all the finest grape, shall I decree,
May e’er become. And so shall I, replete,
Then worship from thine altar, at thy feet,
And pray that I shall ‘ever drink of thee.
So grant thou me, my sweetest love, this prayer,
And thenceforth shall I worship at thy shrine,
And never for thy succour shall despair
Within that safety, as our hearts entwine.
I’ll thenceforth drink of thee and then declare
That never shall, again, I want for wine.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
Remember, thou shalt
forever be Mine Angel–
one superior
to all the grape is
able to be. And I shall
ever drink of thee,
sweetest, sweetest love;
and thenceforth I should never
again want for wine.
But here, my sweetest love, and now, I pray
That shouldst thou know, as sure as once thou knew,
That shouldst thou neither worry, nor construe
Of me, nor any kind of doubt, display,
That shan’t I, once I have returned, convey,
Though lost, as found, or never I withdrew
From out the safety of thine arms. I do
Believe that thou shalt, ‘ever charmed this way,
Remain my fragrant, soul refreshing, wine,
Most perfect, thou, and infinitely sweet;
And shalt thou be the crystal–and I think,
A vessel that, so finished and complete,
That Holiest of Holies, made divine,
Thy beauty and thy grace–Wherewith I drink.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
But, hear me now, my
sweetest love, that thou shouldst know
with nary a doubt:
Once I shall have, to
thine arms, returnèd, thou shalt
forever be my
perfect wine, most sweet;
and thou shalt be the crystal
Wherewith I shall drink.
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:
As Baudelaire, my
father, my twin, my dearest
poet knew this drink
was fine; so shall I
proclaim: My sweetest love, as
my servant, as my
devoted, as my
slave; bringest thou me of the
sweetest Xerex grape
and I shall become
returnèd to that which thou
most admirest.
David Emeron: Sonnets 