Thy mouth is a snow apple, Thy tongue a rosy melon core, Thy breasts are citrons odorous of the East. I know that nursery tale of Eden now, Where God prepared the feast Beneath the bow. I ask no more. The apple-trees have whispered The only word I listened for Through all the legends babbled in my ears. I know what manner of unbitten fruit The first man took with fears And found so sweet. I ask no more. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GUARDIANSHIP by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FLEMING HELPHENSTINE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON TWO WITCHES: 1. THE WITCH OF COOS by ROBERT FROST I, TOO by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES SONNET: 24 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AUTUMN MALADE by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 2 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH FO'C'S'LE YARNS: 1ST SERIES. DEDICATION by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |