Classic Poem

Oh , one that I know is a knavish lass,
Though she looks so sweet and simple,
Her eyes there are none can safely pass,
And it's wrong to trust her dimple.
So taking the jade was by Nature made,
So finished in all fine thieving,
She'll e'en look away what you wanted to say,
And smile you out of your grieving.

To see her, for instance, go down a dance,
You'd think you sat securely,
For there's nothing about her of forward France,
And nothing done over demurely:
But Lord! she goes with so blithe a repose,
And comes so shapely about you,
That ere you're aware, with a glance and an air,
She whisks your heart from out you.