Classic Poem

Apples here in my basket,
You are symbols here in my basket:
Ancient a thousand years, now red again,
Terrible in my hands.
Fullness of women, ripe breasts of the earth,
Sting of denial, nurturing plenty,
Fragrance of love—
Treasure to be won more than gold you were,
O guarded apples in fearful gardens;
Desire far-off, far, far knowledge,
Ineffable knowledge,
Doomed, sweet, divinely snatched!