Sweet pouting lip! whose colour mocks the rose
Rich ripe and teeming with the dew of bliss,
The flower of Love's forbidden fruit which grows
Insidiously to tempt us with a kiss!
Lovers take heed! shun the deceiver's art—
Mark between leaf and leaf the dangerous snare
Where serpent-like he lurks to sting the heart—
His fell intent I see, and cry, beware!
In other days his victim—well I know
The wiles that cost me many a pang and sigh,
Fond thoughtless youths! take warning from my woe—
Apples of Tantalus—those buds on high
From the parch'd lips they court, retiring go:
Love's flames and poison only, do not fly!