Classic Poem

The other day when none was nigh,
No mother's anxious gaze to spy,
My darling slipped into my bed
A pair of apples rosy red,
And with them secret charms she wove
And lit, methinks, the torch of love.
For while the fruit I listless hold,
I dream my hands her breasts enfold
And from their red a flame had come
That makes beneath my heart its home.