Classic Poem

Once your soft cheeks were smoother far
Than all our Parian marbles are;
But then you turned your face away,
Though now you murmur me ‘Good day.’

Once curling ringlets did bedeck
The haughty splendour of your neck;
Now that there are no curls to see
You are content to sport with me.

Well, thank you, No, my proud coquette!
You shall not catch me in your net.
Both rose and briar have a thorn,
But rose I love and briar scorn.