Every limb of the body was covered in blisters; such was the fruit borne by the tree of love.

The poet creates a poignant metaphor here, imagining love as a tree cultivated with deep devotion. While a tree is usually expected to yield sweet fruit, this 'tree of love' bears agonizing blisters all over the lover's body as its harvest. The painful, swollen blisters themselves become the tragic fruits of longing, revealing how a life given over to passion often reaps physical suffering and heartbreak instead of comfort.