The Apple Poem by William Bell Scott

What sound was there?
An apple fallen, I declare,
Ripe and red, and we will share,
As we have shared so much beside:
No! let it stay,
It makes me think of mistress Eve,
And something might betide;
What if we too should have to grieve
The loss of this our paradise!—
But I've heard say,
From good Saint Jerome's comment wise,
Eve was away
When God did that commandment leave,
And therefore innocent was Eve:
Besides, no Snake is here to-day.