"How good is Almond green I view! * The smallest fills the hand of you: Its nap is as the down upon * The cheeks where yet no beardlet grew: Its kernels in the shell are seen, * Or bachelors or married two, As pearls they were of lucent white * Casčd and lapped in Jasper's hue." And as saith yet another and saith well, "Mine eyes ne'er looked on aught the Almond like * For charms, when blossoms[FN#399] in the Prime show bright: Its head to hoariness of age inclines * The while its cheek by youth's fresh down is dight." And jujube-plums of various colours, grown in clusters and alone whereof saith one, describing them, "Look at the Lote-tree, note on boughs arrayed * Like goodly apricots on reed-strown floor,[FN#400] Their morning-hue to viewer's eye is like * Cascavels[FN#401] cast of purest golden ore." And as saith another and saith right well, "The Jujube-tree each Day * Robeth in bright array. As though each pome thereon * Would self to sight display. Like falcon-bell of gold * Swinging from every spray." And in that garth grew blood oranges, as they were the Khaulanján,[FN#402] whereof quoth the enamoured poet,[FN#403] "Red fruits that fill the hand, and shine with sheen * Of fire, albe the scarf-skin's white as snow. 'Tis marvel snow on fire doth never melt * And, stranger still, ne'er burns this living lowe!" And quoth another and quoth well, "And trees of Orange fruiting ferly fair * To those who straitest have their charms surveyed; Like cheeks of women who their forms have decked * For holiday in robes of gold brocade." And yet another as well, "Like are the Orange-hills[FN#404] when Zephyr breathes * Swaying the boughs and spray with airy grace, Her cheeks that glow with lovely light when met * At greeting- tide by cheeks of other face." And a fourth as fairly, "And fairest Fawn, we said to him 'Portray * This garth and oranges thine eyes survey:' And he, 'Your garden favoureth my face * Who gathereth orange gathereth fire alway.'" In that garden too grew citrons, in colour as virgin gold, hanging down from on high and dangling among the branches, as they were ingots of growing gold;[FN#405] and saith thereof the 'namoured poet, "Hast seen a Citron-copse so weighed adown * Thou fearest bending roll their fruit on mould; And seemed, when Zephyr passed athwart the tree * Its branches hung with bells of purest gold?" And shaddocks,[FN#406] that among their boughs hung laden as though each were the breast of a gazelle-like maiden, contenting the most longing wight, as saith of them the poet and saith aright, "And Shaddock mid the garden-paths, on bough * Freshest like fairest damsel met my sight; And to the blowing of the breeze it bent * Like golden ball to bat of chrysolite."