That sweet red fruit

Behold the fruit 

that love does born, 

behold the love 

of life.

Behold the strawberry 

appetise, 

behold 

the rue of strife. 

My pretty painted, 

seeded berry, 

my pretty 

sweet delight. 

I thought that I 

would love 

you last, 

I thought 

that I 

just might.

How tender was 

its redden flesh? 

How tender 

was this love?

I thought that I 

might taste afresh, 

of heaven's scent 

above.