'Twas a very small garden; The paths were of stone, Scattered with leaves, With moss overgrown; And a little Old Cupid Stood under a tree, With a small broken bow He stood aiming at me. The dog-rose in briars Hung over the weeds, The air was aflock With the floating of seeds; And a little old Cupid Stood under a tree, With a small broken bow He stood aiming at me. The dovecote was tumbling, The fountain dry, A wind in the orchard Went whispering by; And a little old Cupid Stood under a tree, With a small broken bow He stood aiming at me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GIRL OF ALL PERIODS; AN IDYLL by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE TO A LADY: SHE REFUSING TO CONTINUE A DISPUTE WITH ME by MATTHEW PRIOR NORTHBOUN' by LUCY ARIEL WILLIAMS THE WORLD'S TRIUMPHS by MATTHEW ARNOLD FRAGMENT OF THE ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF ADONIS by BION AN INVECTIVE AGAINST THE WORLD, SELECTION by NICHOLAS BRETON |