The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe by James Parton
page 50 of 959 (05%)
page 50 of 959 (05%)
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These flights of birds, sat still at home,
One small, neat Love-cage making. Come, listen, maids, etc. Much Cloe laugh'd at Susan's task; But mark how things went on: These light-caught Loves, ere you could ask Their name and age, were gone! So weak poor Cloe's nets were wove, That, though she charm'd into them New game each hour, the youngest Love Was able to break through them. Come, listen, maids, etc. Meanwhile, young Sue, whose cage was wrought Of bars too strong to sever, One love with golden pinions caught, And caged him there forever; Instructing thereby, all coquettes, Whate'er their looks or ages, That, though 'tis pleasant weaving Nets, 'Tis wiser to make Cages. Thus, maidens, thus do I beguile The task your fingers ply-- May all who hear, like Susan smile, Ah! not like Cloe sigh! SALAD. |
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