To Mistress Pyrrha

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Title:     To Mistress Pyrrha
Author: Eugene Field [More Titles by Field]

What perfumed, posie-dizened sirrah,
With smiles for diet,
Clasps you, O fair but faithless Pyrrha,
On the quiet?
For whom do you bind up your tresses,
As spun-gold yellow,--
Meshes that go with your caresses,
To snare a fellow?

How will he rail at fate capricious,
And curse you duly,
Yet now he deems your wiles delicious,--
_You_ perfect, truly!
Pyrrha, your love's a treacherous ocean;
He'll soon fall in there!
Then shall I gloat on his commotion,
For _I_ have been there!

[The end]
Eugene Field's poem: To Mistress Pyrrha

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