直到“成熟的樱桃”欢呼到来。
There is a gardenher face，
Where roses and white lilies grow；
A heavenly paradise is that pce，
Where all pleasant fruits do flow.
There cherries grow whione ay buy，
Till Cherry-ripetheselves do cry.
Those cherries fairly do enclose
Of orient pearl a double row，
Which when her lovely ughter shows，
They look like rosebuds filled with snow.
Yet the nor peer nor prcebuy，
Till Cherry-ripetheselves do cry.
Her eyes like angels watch the still；
Her brows like bended bows do stand，
Threateng with piercg frowns to kill
All that attept with eye or hand
Those sacred cherries to e nigh，
Till Cherry-ripetheselves do cry.