With apologies to Richard Lovelace

Do not say, my sweet, I am unkind
That I upset your day
And having on your breakfast dined
I have just this to say.

True, your icebox now I loot
Of plums you’d set aside;
As cold and sweet as any fruit
That yet by me was tried.

Yet this nocturnal snack is such
As makes me none the worse:
I could not love thee, dear, so much
Had you ne'er inspired verse.