Waiting to capture men, Love lurking lies.
Her glances are the arrows of his bow,
Wherewith he lays unwary victims low;
And she, unused to Cupid’s artful wiles,
Unconscious aids his purpose by her smiles,
And knows not, as her smiles and glances dart,
What anguish these may bring to many a heart.
Ah! hapless maiden, innocently gay,
No presage of the future breeds dismay;
She does not know how soon the treacherous guest