Unpalatable!
Sage-leaf is bitter-pungent—so 's a quince:
Eat each who 's able!
But through all three bite boldly—lo, the gust!
Flavor—no fixture—
Flies permeating flesh and leaf and crust
In fine admixture.
So with your meal, my poem: masticate
Sense, sight, and song there!
Digest these, and I praise your peptics' state,