Starting from the saying "aged like fine wine," the speaker turns a cheerful compliment into something unsettling. If we are wine, then someone is drinking us, and the speaker imagines our souls being consumed at the end of life. The opening questions sound unsure and a little anxious: will the gods show mercy, and does finding love make us "taste better"? The speaker doesn't seem to know the answers, and that uncertainty runs through the whole poem.
The second half turns darker. Some people end their lives early, and the speaker compares them to wine that hasn't aged enough, a "cheap wine" that offers only brief happiness. The tone here feels quieter and sadder, though it's hard to say whether the speaker is judging these people or mourning them. The short last line, "Temporary satisfaction," hangs alone and leaves a hollow, reflective mood. The poem asks what makes a life worth the waiting, and leaves that question open.