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Ah! who can see those fruits of Paradise,
Ah! who can see those fruits of Paradise,
Celestial cherries, which so sweetly swell,
That sweetness' self confined there seems to dwell,
And all those sweetest parts about despise?
Ah! who can see and feel no flame surprise
His hardened heart? for me, alas! too well
I know their force, and how they do excel:
Now burn I through desire, now do I freeze;
I die, dear life, unless to me be given
As many kisses as the spring hath flow'rs,
Or as the silver drops of Iris' show'rs,
Or as the stars in all-embracing heaven;
And if, displeas'd, ye of the match complain,
Ye shall have leave to take them back again.

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