EROS is missing. In the early morn Forth from his bed the rascal took his flight. Sweet are his tears; his smile is touched with scorn -- A nimble-tongued, swift-footed, fearless sprite! And he is winged; his hands a quiver bear. What farther 't was begot him none can tell, "He is not mine," Earth, Air, and Sea declare. That he's a foe to all, I know full well. So keep good watch: beware his snare's embrace; Even now his toils may in thy pathway lie. But look, who's that? Ah, there's his hiding- place! I see him, bow and all, in Chloe's eye. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RUNAWAY SLAVE AT PILGRIM'S POINT by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE PRINCESS: SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON COMPENSATIONS by CHRISTOPHER BANNISTER TWO CITIES by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER TO A PHOEBE-BIRD by WITTER BYNNER ON THE BIRTH OF JOHN WILLIAM RIZZO HOPPNER by GEORGE GORDON BYRON APRIL IN 'THE STREET' by PATRICK REGINALD CHALMERS RE-CREATON by MARGUERITE CHAPMAN PICTURES OF THE SOUTHWEST: DESERTED by ELIZABETH KING COWGILL |