The Triumph of Cupid

He came in busy hours—
My holidays are few—
He brought the scent of flowers,
And whispered, dear, of you.

I vowed that I would flay him,
And scourge him out of sight;
Nay more, I vowed to slay him,
The mischief-making sprite.

I gave him caustic chiding,
Let fly a poisoned dart.
Presto! the lad was hiding
Safely within my heart!

There all day long he chatters
Of some one’s charm and grace;
Till nothing really matters
Except to see your face.

I would I had not chidden,
Nor tried the sprite to kill;
For in my heart safe hidden,
He works his wayward will.

Geraldine Meyrick.