Whatever The Heart's Desire

Apples of Paradise
High on the limb,
Withheld from me:
Out of my reach, beyond my sighs;
Fair to the eyes
Till eyes grow dim.
Never ye drop from the tree,
Ripe as ye glow,
Even when wild winds waken,
And sing as they go
Their ravishing hymn,
While many a tree is shaken.
Nor may I take heart and climb
The wrinkled bole,
For the serpent waits
And the climbers fail,
Oh, pray my soul
That in some fair time
The smileless fates
May send me a gale
From the heavens above
That will sway the Paradise tree
Till its boughs bend down,
Bend down to me
As in stress of love,
And I pluck the prize
From the tree's fair crown,
The red, lush fruit of ecstacy:
Whatever shapes my heart's desire
A world-sung rhyme,
Love made entire
Glad to my lips
As now to mine eyes
With longing dim,
Apples of Paradise
High on the limb.