CHERRY-RIPE, ripe, ripe, I cry, Full and fair ones; come and buy. If so be you ask me where They do grow, I answer: There Where my Julia's lips do smile; There 's the land, or cherry-isle, Whose plantations fully show All the year where cherries grow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SQUIRE BOWLING GREEN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A TRAGIC STORY by ADELBERT VON CHAMISSO COMPANIONSHIP by MABEL WARREN ARNOLD TO A WITHERED ROSE by JOHN KENDRICK BANGS LISTENING by KATHARINE LEE BATES ON THE DEATH OF HER BODY by JAMES KEIR BAXTER IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: CONDEMNED by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |