To Christina Rossetti

Thou hast fill'd me a golden cup
With a drink divine that glows,
With the bloom that is flowing up
From the heart of the folded rose.

The grapes in their amber glow,
And the strength of the blood-red wine,
All mingle and change and flow
In this golden cup of thine,

With the scent of the curling vine,
With the balm of the rose's breath,—
For the voice of love is thine,
And thine is the Song of Death!