Cupid’s Arrows
Phœbe, wandering in a wood,
Chanced to spy Dan Cupid sleeping;
Long the curious maiden stood
Tiptoe, through the branches peeping.
For the youngster’s lips she yearned,
Till, the branches parting slyly,
She to slake her thirst that burned
Stooped and kissed the rogue’s mouth shyly.
Now the boy’s eyes open wide,
And upon the maid he gazes,
Grasps an arrow at his side,
And his silver bow upraises.
Swift the maiden turns to flee;
Swift the arrow follows after,
Wounding in its flight a tree:
Hark! how rings the maid’s clear laughter.
Cupid, with sleep-dazzled eyes,
Stares a moment through the bushes
Where the laughing maid still flies,
Then adown the wood he rushes.
Now the shaft o’ertakes the quarry,
Now it cleaves poor Phœbe’s heart—
Maidens, ere you wake Love, tarry
First to filch his every dart.
James B. Kenyon.