Cupid’s Failure
Cupid, one day, in idle quest,
Fitted a dainty dart
And aimed it at Priscilla’s breast,
To strike Priscilla’s heart.
Clean through it went, no heart was there;
Said Cupid, “I believe
Priscilla’s just the girl to wear
Her heart upon her sleeve.”
But there, alack! it was not found;
“Aha!” cried Cupid, “note
Her frightened air; now I’ll be bound
Her heart is in her throat.”
Failure again. On slender chance
He one more arrow shoots;
Assuming from her downcast glance,
Her heart is in her boots.
Foiled, Cupid threw aside his bow;
“She has no heart,” said he.
(He did not know that long ago
She gave her heart to me.)