To gain them by the world-old ruse;
And failing, vexed to find that vain
Was all her pretty reticence,
She happed upon a worthless swain
On whom, reserved the gold, the pence
Of liberal smiles she flung away,
Till, snared by her own innocence,
She fell—Ah, God! how far that day
She fell—from hope and promise plumb,
To deeps where lips forget to pray.