With apologies to George Herbert

Sweet plum, delicious, ripe, and cold,
The glory of the fruited bough;
I’ll take you from the fridge’s hold
  And eat you now.

Sweet note, which has just this to say,
“I ate your plums—I know not how—
And had your morrow’s meal to-day”,
  I write you now:

“Sweet fridge, full of sweet plums and more,
A box where we preserve our chow,
I’ve robbed you of the food you store;
  You’re empty now.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul—
Like she with whom the author lives—
Although her food he often stole,
  Yet him forgives.”