Go round the grape-vine sun[[289]] which for mansion hath a jar;
Whose East the cup-boy is, and here my mouth that opes for West.
I'm jealous of the very clothes that dare her sides enroll
When she veils her dainty body of the delicatest grace:
I envy every goblet of her lips that taketh toll,
When she sets the kissing-cup on that sweetest kissing-place.
But deem not by the keen-edged scymitar I'm slain—
The hurts and harms I dree are from arrows of her eyes.
I found her finger-tips, as I met her once again,
Deep-reddened with the juice of the wood that ruddy dyes;[[290]]