University of Virginia Library


204

APPLES.

Dainty apples, lip inviting,
Ripe and rosy every one;
Bounteous summer's freshest comers,
Tinted by the morning sun!
Yours to pluck them, thirsty mortal,
Nought but pleasure can befall—
Foolish taster! Pleasure waster!
Dead Sea Apples, one and all!
Apples? No! But Beauty's kisses,
Balm and cure for every woe;
Seeds of passion—fruit of rapture—
Dearest boon the Fates bestow.

205

Come and woo them, and pursue them,
Ye who pine in Sorrow's thrall;—
Foolish tasters! pleasure wasters!
Dead Sea Apples, one and all!
Kisses? No! But golden ingots,
Gold, the cynosure of Earth;
King of Beauty—Lord of Duty—
Standard, pledge, and proof of worth.
Come and clutch the sparkling treasure,
Ye who'd stand where others fall:—
Foolish tasters! Pleasure wasters!
Dead Sea Apples, one and all!
Ingots? No! But dear Companions,
Friends in Fortune's darkest day:
Dearer, truer, firmer, newer,
When Life's brightness fades away—
Friends that if you're down will lift you,
Ready at your slightest call!
Foolish tasters! Pleasure wasters!
Rotten Apples, one and all!