SONG TO CUPID
O wary elf Cupid, O dimpled, coy Cupid,
Are you lost in the moonbeams, or hid in a rose?
Who saw you, so nimble, slip out of a thimble,
And hang from the loops of a lily-maid’s bows?
Wee, spry little midget, the world’s in a fidget
To snare and then coddle you, mischievous sprite;
Your pranks and mad gambols and primrose-path rambles
’Mid briers and brambles are all my delight.
In ivy-clad bowers you nestle for hours,
And lurk in the flowers that swing in the breeze;
There counting the kisses, the sweet stolen blisses,
Of Strephon and Phyllis in languorous ease.
We trifle and putter, our hearts in a flutter,
In a tangled skein spun by the toiletted fair,
The weary hours whiling, and dull care beguiling—
Lo! dimpled and smiling, you’re loitering there!
O wary elf Cupid, O cunning, coy Cupid,
Are lovers all stupid, dear, rollicking boy?
While maidens are sighing and love-knots are tying,
The snap of your bow-string bodes sorrow and joy!
Harold Van Santvoord.
