Pale is the ruddy Beetroot's lip;
And e'en the red-cheek'd Apple faints,
As though it suffer'd from the pip.
Severely frown the Baking Pears;
The Artichoke's bold crest is down;
The awe-struck Medlar wildly stares
To see thy cheek a swarthier brown.
The icy Cucumber is hot,
The freckled Cauliflower wan;
The Mushroom has no longer got