143 . 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!