TEACHER AND PUPIL.
Give me, my love, that billing kiss
I taught you one delicious night,
When, turning epicures in bliss,
We tried inventions of delight.
Come, gently steal my lips along,
And let your lips in murmurs move;
Ah, no!—again—that kiss was wrong:
How can you be so dull, my love?
“Cease, cease!” the blushing girl replied,—
And in her milky arms she caught me;
“How can you thus your pupil chide?
You know ’twas in the dark you taught me!”
Moore.
