AT my door, a boy came knocking, Crying loudly, "Apples mellow, Apples sweet and golden yellow," In his eyes a laugh was mocking; Love, I know thee, Vain thy knocking. For such fruit did Adam sin, sir; Paris, in an evil hour, Chose a prize from out thy bower; Venus' glorious charms to dower; Go, see their mark of beauty's thin, sir, At their dead hearts I peep in, sir. |