Classic Poem

Strange that the dark tree, the unblossomed apple
Should show so much the princess of this orchard,
Whose clear shadows equal the pear's dappled,
And patterns black for cloudy the smooth sward.
The light-bearing tree should far surpass
This slim and winter-garmented young slut,
That's never watched her dark fire in the glass,
Nor wondered vainly till her eyelids shut.
The Cinderella of unjealous kin
Who watch their sister till her time comes in.