Phœbe, wandering in a wood,
Chanced to spy Dan Cupid sleeping;
Long the curious maiden stood
Tiptoe, through the branches peeping.
For the youngster’s lips she yearned,
Till, the branches parting slyly,
She to slake her thirst that burned
Stooped and kissed the rogue’s mouth shyly.
Now the boy’s eyes open wide,
And upon the maid he gazes,