The fruit of love's desire is sweet
For any man and maid to eat.
However ripened in time's air,
No other can with it compare.
'Tis like those apples 'of such price,
No tree can ever bear them twice;'
And only two may share it, so
That they would all its sweetness know.
It is so fine and fair a thing
And eaten with such passioning,
The eaters seem themselves to be
Fed on each other's mystery;
And when they have the sweet thing ate
Sigh for the lack of all things yet,
For once 'tis bitten to the core
The dearest dream of life is o'er,
And man and maid within time's waste
Another such may never taste.