The Sonnet

But thou hast read how Cleopatra went
To Antony, her lustrous eyes a-shine,
Through mazy webs of love fit to entwine
A simple conqueror palaced in a tent ;
And how her pearl, a monarch's ransom, blent
Its iridescence with the sharp white wine
To pleasure her, as with an air divine
She quaffed it to the Roman's dazzlement.

In such wise make, and take, a sonnet. Throw
Into the wine, emotion, the pure pearl
Of artistry, and while 'tis yet a-swirl
And beading bravely, snare with subtile craft
A gleam of golden light upon it — so !
Then, breathless, drain it at a single draught !