Love tumbling in, began to shout
For Mischief’s aid, lest he should smother:
“You little demon, let me out,
Or I’ll report you to my mother.”
Said Mischief, “I’ll not set you free
Unless you share your power with me,
And give of every heart you gain,
One-half to joy and half to pain.”
Love struggled, but in vain, alas!
He was not born to prove a martyr,