ONCE Venus, deeming Love too fat, Stopped all his rich, ambrosial dishes, Dooming the boy to live on chat, -- To sup on songs and dine on wishes. Love, lean and lank, flew off to prowl, -- The starveling now no beauty boasted, -- He could have munched Minerva's owl, Or Juno's peacock, boiled or roasted. At last, half famished, almost dead, He shot his mother's doves for dinner; Young Lilla, passing, shook her head, -- Cried Love, "A shot at you, young sinner!" "Oh, not at me!" she urged her flight -- "I'm neither dove, nor lark, nor starling!" "No," fainting Cupid cried, "not quite; But then -- you're such a duck, my darling!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MATER AMABILIS by EMMA LAZARUS THE RED TURTLENECK by KAREN SWENSON ON THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) TO A HIGHLAND GIRL; AT INVERSNAID, UPON LOCH LOMOND by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 9. GOING TO THE FAIR by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM |