Classic Poem

In swelling hoop, flirting a trim bouquet,
Each painted cheek with tiny patches graced,
A tower-like head-dress, and a wasp-like waist,
With beaked pantouffles and embroidery gay —
This was the German Muse's late array,
What time she came to hold thee close embraced;
But thou didst get thee from her paths in haste,
And dreaming didst pursue thy devious way —

Then didst thou find a castle in a wood
Where, like pure marble, lay in solitude
The sweetest maiden in enchanted rest;
But at thy greeting, lo! the spell was broke,
And, smiling, Germany's true Muse awoke
To sink at once, love-vanquished, on thy breast.