Classic Poem

See, 'tis an apple I throw you,
Your heart to prove,
Token of all that I vow you,
If you will love;
Take it, my sweetest, and bring to my arms
All the fresh fragrance of maiden-hood's charms.

But if you mean to deny me —
Heaven forfend —
Think ere with " No" you reply me
Of beauty's end;
Look at this apple and see how its bloom
Swiftly will fade and to rottenness come.