Love's Firstfruits
"As the sweet-apple blushes on the end of bough, the very end of the bough, which the gatherers overlooked, nay overlooked not, but could not reach."—Sappho.
I bring to thee the fruitage of first love!
The flower but faintly touched with passion's pink
Pushed forth, untended, t'was a fragile thing
To fight alone with all the fears of life!
And yet it grew expanding day by day,
Each petal pure as sun-soft summer air
Pressed forward to the perfect Fane of Love
That fronted it. For Love was king and light—
The only king that fair faint blossom knew!
And so it flourished—till at last it fell
And the fruit framed in girlhood's life of leaves
Hung warm and sweet, flushed crimson from the sun
Of girlhood's Summer, so the Autumn came
And with it came a Gatherer strong and bold
Who raised a longing hand to reach it down,
That little fruit of love—but it out-soared
That long lithe arm, and so the Gatherer shook
The slender green-girt stem until at last
Loosed from its hold Love's firstfruit dropped to him.
. . . So my heart's harvest has been yielded up
A rapturous, speechless sacrifice to thee!
The flower but faintly touched with passion's pink
Pushed forth, untended, t'was a fragile thing
To fight alone with all the fears of life!
And yet it grew expanding day by day,
Each petal pure as sun-soft summer air
Pressed forward to the perfect Fane of Love
That fronted it. For Love was king and light—
The only king that fair faint blossom knew!
And so it flourished—till at last it fell
And the fruit framed in girlhood's life of leaves
Hung warm and sweet, flushed crimson from the sun
Of girlhood's Summer, so the Autumn came
And with it came a Gatherer strong and bold
Who raised a longing hand to reach it down,
That little fruit of love—but it out-soared
That long lithe arm, and so the Gatherer shook
The slender green-girt stem until at last
Loosed from its hold Love's firstfruit dropped to him.
. . . So my heart's harvest has been yielded up
A rapturous, speechless sacrifice to thee!