Fair apple of my happy eye,
Rare peach of my glad smelling,
Of all the fruits I do espy
It’s only you keep swelling.
Then for delight of life’s best meal
I’ll mix you in my salad,
And when I’ve ate a goodly deal
I’ll sing for you my ballad.
O Sweet, O Sweet, I’ve tasted true
The joyous taste I’ve had of you,
And I will eat no more, not e’er,
Lest it be more of you, my Fair.
Lest it be more of you, my life,
No dinner could be more my wife,
And since I feast on love divine
I think I’ll call me Valentine!
Then you will I call Valentee,
Who happy diet brought to me,
And should my mind give you high taste
We’ll never throw out food to waste!
The food of love, it is so real,
Through all the senses it does steal,
And through the veins and through the heart,
On to the spirit swift does dart.
At last, it overtakes the will,
Where slightest touch is relished thrill,
And lips commence to eat of lips
And drink the grapes of fingertips.
Then Valentine and Valentee
Are sunk in bowl of You-Are-Me,
And that’s a meal not first or last,
But life-long entree never past!