Andrew would marvel at her coyness
With a winged chariot hurrying near
And yonder before were vast deserts.

Love grew vegetables by a moonlight,
From yellow flowers glowing by night
To be a love’s fruits of consummation.

She would find rubies by the Ganges
While he sat waiting out Humber tide.
Love grew a moon type turnip flower.

The flowers would wilt by fierce sun
In the desert of vast eternity before
As worms would get at their virginity.

Virginity is flower failing to turn fruit.
A vegetable love may grow empires
But there are worms waiting to feed.

(About the hyperbolic poem “To his coy mistress” by Andrew Marvel)