"The Apple of Mine Eye"

This apple here, that I now hold.

How wound up thee here, I wonder?

Thou hast come so long to me, sweet Gold,

And thy subsistence I now ponder.

Perhaps thy journey was not long,

But ‘twas not I who plucked thee

Thy sanctity - like a ravished virgin - gone;

Alas: hold’st I thine probity.

I mark thy bruises and imperfections now.

Where hast thou been, dear’st fruit of mine?

T’were marked upon this journey - how?

‘Tis now my marks inside thy rind.

Thoust pleasureth me, Thoust maketh me whole.

And although, unblemished, would thee purely sweeten,

Lady Alice - with thine beauty I cannot unknow -

Thy usédness hath mine life completed