(from "The Sprightly Pilgrim")
 I sat and read Anacreon.
 Moved by the gay, delicious measure
 I mused that lips were made for love,
 And love to charm a poet's leisure.
 And as I mused a maid came by
 With something in her look that caught me.
 Forgotten was Anacreon's line,
 But not the lesson he had taught me.