Dear hand upon this apple here,
Dear fingers soft, yet tight,
Dear hand, you’re sweetly tempting me
To reach my hand with might
And squeeze you firm, yet tenderly,
As you were mine by right.
I need not fruit of apple tree,
I need not nature’s chance,
I need your laughing competence
For my first real romance.
Dear eyes of light who love their will,
Dear seeing swift and strong,
Dear lips, you’re dearly tempting me
To crush you long and long
And make our lives one ecstasy
Of love’s high-seeded song!
Oh no, I’ll not take apple now;
Oh no, I’d be untrue!
Just press two fingers on my brow
And let your love run through!
O Temptress mine, my own, my all,
What right have we to live
If in pride’s bed we do not fall
With joy for joy to give?