Ah, Cupid! Cupid! let alone That bud above the rest: The Graces wear it in their zone, Thy mother on her breast. Does it not grieve thee to destroy So beautiful a flower? If thou must do it, cruel boy, Far distant be the hour! If the sweet bloom (so tinged with fire From thy own torch) must die, Let it, O generous Love! expire Beneath a lover's sigh. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FLY by BARNABY (BARNABE) GOOGE THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 23. LOVE'S BAUBLES by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS HOOD by BARTHOLOMEW SIMMONS A MANUAL MORE ANCIENT THAT THE ART OF PRINTING ... by VINCENT BOURNE THE CLAIM by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE LITTLE ONES by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON THE OLD HOMESTEAD by ALICE CARY ON A PORTRAIT OF MARY TUDOR IN PRADO by ELIZABETH JANE COATSWORTH |