Remember thou, my sweetest love, that grape
Made manifest alloweth many forms:
A quick but fleeting ichorous escape;
A spirit with incalescence that warms.
The grape may yield up poison that would kill,
A draught that might embolden ones appeal,
A sedative to blight one of his skill,
Or potion, pray, infirmity, may heal.
Remember thou how fickle is the grape
So oft’ endowed, its yield, so commonplace;
But rarely, fine enough a thing to shape
Ones soul, aligned, unto a state of grace.
So may this sweet elixir slake thy soul;
And pray, my sweetest love, it make thee whole.
To kind friends and absent companions.
Dinner sounded delightful, Paddy’O.
Sonnet III: Absence
Remember thou, my sweetest love, that grape
Made manifest alloweth many forms:
A quick but fleeting ichorous escape;
A spirit with incalescence that warms.
The grape may yield up poison that would kill,
A draught that might embolden ones appeal,
A sedative to blight one of his skill,
Or potion, pray, infirmity, may heal.
Remember thou how fickle is the grape
So oft’ endowed, its yield, so commonplace;
But rarely, fine enough a thing to shape
Ones soul, aligned, unto a state of grace.
So may this sweet elixir slake thy soul;
And pray, my sweetest love, it make thee whole.
David Emeron
8/14/2014
https://davidemeron.com/2014/08/14/sonnet-iii/