I TAKE, ere the bee hath sipped, The courtly, maiden-lipped, And dewy oleander, And breathe, and dream, and wander. But ah! take not another, Lest fragrance fragrance smother. II What all your wreathed wine To what I taste of mine? See the spilled jewels run, Red as an autumn sun! -- Each holding warm and clear The vintage of a year. III Stranger, thy passing word My waiting heart hath stirred; My life to thee I lend! This hour thou art my friend, And could not dearer be Loved an eternity. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HONEY DRIPPER by CLARENCE MAJOR OF THE MEAN AND SURE ESTATE by THOMAS WYATT THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 60. FAREWELL TO JULIET (9) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE BLACK REGIMENT by GEORGE HENRY BOKER MODERN LOVE: 50 by GEORGE MEREDITH SOME EYES CONDEMN by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS |