CUPID abroad was lated in the night, His wings were wet with ranging in the rain; Harbour he sought, to me he took his flight, To dry his plumes: I heard the boy complain; I op'd the door, and granted his desire, I rose myself, and made the wag a fire. Looking more narrow by the fire's flame, I spied his quiver hanging by his back: Doubting the boy might my misfortune frame, I would have gone for fear of further wrack; But what I drad, did me poor wretch betide, For forth he drew an arrow from his side. He pierc'd the quick, and I began to start, A pleasing wound, but that it was too high; His shaft procur'd a sharp, yet sugar'd smart; Away he flew, for why his wings were dry; But left the arrow sticking in my breast, That sore I griev'd I welcom'd such a guest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR: 7. AFTER THE FAIR by THOMAS HARDY THE WINDHOVER: TO CHRIST OUR LORD by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER by JOHN KEATS THE MOWER AGAINST GARDENS by ANDREW MARVELL PROUD MAISIE, FR. THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN by WALTER SCOTT BIRDS by NESTA HIGGINSON SKRINE MARGARET FULLER by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT |