Analysis of "sweet red" a poem in free verse #23

Sweet red,
have thou been tasting lips,
tied to the haste of thine eyes?
Tell of the trips,
on shivered types,
of rivers white,
that blend of thou,
thy sweet red.
Sun thou cares of thy head,
in thou pious shine,
that bled,
from thy sweet red.

Thy sweet red,
has overthrown,
with thou grace,
on her seas,
undertow,
of which her face,
in thou fleeced,
sweet red,
that flows,
to the quiver,
of thy head,
in thou throws,
to catch thy shiver,

Thy sweet red,
thine eyes hath reminisce,
for thou walk,
sweet red stains,
golden globes,
of thou steps,
that touched,
thou fingers wept.