The fruit grows within easy reach.

How simple to take a peach

Or plum.

How delightfully does temptation come.

The juice turns to gall.

Better to let the fruit fall

or be gathered by other hands.

But desire commands

us to pick

and sip.

The devil’s tune seems sweet

and once our feet

begin to dance

We have no chance

To stop

but must waltz until we drop.