V.

The apples that grew on the fruit-tree of knowledge By woman were pluck’d, and she still wears the prize, To tempt us in theatre, senate, or college―― I mean the love-apples that bloom in the eyes.

(VI.

Attun’d to the scene, when the pale yellow moon is on Tower and tree they’d look sober and sage, And when they all wink’d their dear peepers in unison, Night, pitchy night, would envelop the stage.