Poems with rhymes of wine

Swear it by this golden wine,
Faithful to the vow divine,

"He would dress me up in silks so fine,
And praise and toast me at his wine.

The troops obey the sign,
And bring me shimmering shadow-robes
And cups of cowslip-wine.

But leave the noonday's warm sunshine
To living lads for mirth and wine.

I have drunk your water and wine.
In deaths ye died I have watched beside,
And the lives ye led were mine.

FILL the bowl with rosy wine,
Around our temples roses twine.

There's little in water or wine;
This living, this living, this living
Was never a project of mine.

In regard I want that wine
Which should conjure up a line.

'Tis true, sometimes my friends in wine
Their conquests _do_ recall,
But none can truly say that mine

Of honey and venom-wine.
A little of it sipped by night
Makes the long hours divine.

Today Space is fine!
Like a horse mount this wine,

In that brief day of mine?
The wind, the bees, the wholesome stuff
The sun pours out like wine.

That the wind sways above a ruined shrine.
Vainer his voice in whom no longer dwells
Hunger that craves immortal Bread and Wine.

They brought me rubies from the mine,
And held them to the sun;
I said, they are drops of frozen wine

The air like wine -­
Go you your way,
And I'll go mine.

Which at first seemed a vessel with sweet wine
For thirsty lips. So down the swift decline

All along a narrow way that marks a crooked line.
How are you to slake me, and how are you to feed me?
With bitter yellow berries, and a sharp new wine.

(Sweet bush to a far sweeter wine),
With joy for man, sweet-thorn for Christ,
Not pagan all, not all divine.

Mix in thy bitter wine: -
Drink, while the cup is thine,

And yet each verse of thine
Out-did the meat, out-did the frolic wine.