“You’ll bear no fruit,” she told the Ground,
“Until my Prossie has been found!”
Jove, who beheld the farmer’s need,
And saw the season’s crops all fail,
Said, “This is Cereous, indeed,
That fellow Dis should be in jail!”
“I think,” said Juno, “’twere as well—
It does no good to give him hell;”
And so it might have been decreed
But for one small pomegranate seed.