Your Sweat is the Sweetest Wine

Your sweat is the sweetest wine--
you, my love, are divine.
With your head held high and fair,
there's not a knot in your golden hair
and though one may rightly say
you are beautiful as a summer's day,
I proclaim you as the Night:
cool, calm, crowned in Starlight
If I come on slightly strong,
forgive me, dearest, I mean no wrong.

Alas! if I am incorrect,
give me time to resurrect.
A cost of life or limb
is little when you I must protect.

Your eyes are the deepest well--
you, my love, are a dove that fell.
I may not be a shining knight
but I am I, and this I know is right;
for if you would die tomorrow
I--not alone--would weep in sorrow.
You are a maiden of golden sheep--
do I wander in your dreams asleep?
Ah, my love, you are one so divine,
and your sweat is the sweetest wine.