What perfumed, posie-dizened sirrah, br With smiles for diet, br Clasps you, O fair but faithless Pyrrha, br On the quiet? br For whom do you bind up your tresses, br As spun-gold yellow,-- br Meshes that go, with your caresses, br To snare a fellow? br br How will he rail at fate capricious, br And curse you duly! br Yet now he deems your wiles delicious, br You perfect, truly! br Pyrrha, your love's a treacherous ocean; br He'll soon fall in there! br Then shall I gloat on his commotion, br For I have been there!br br Eugene Fieldbr br