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 Field<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/horace-to-pyrrha/
