The speaker celebrates physical pleasure and love, treating it like a royal ceremony. Pleasure sits on a red throne, surrounded by fiddlers, and the "coronation" of the title seems to be the speaker's own giddy sense that desire has made a king of the night. Yet the invitation is oddly casual: "Come to me as if / to the ground," as if walking up and down or going to the kitchen. Grandeur and ordinary life sit side by side, and what the speaker wants most is simple, a kiss.
The second stanza moves from wish to memory. The speaker and a lover stay out until the city glows, and strangers raise drinks to them in what feels like a "strange frolic." Then comes the quiet after: in bed, "wet with joy," the body is like "a put-out fire." The mood runs from festive and noisy to hushed and content. The final line, shutting out every other world, suggests the speaker wants nothing beyond this moment.