Cupid as he lay among Roses, by a Bee was stung. Whereupon in anger flying To his Mother, said thus crying; Help! O help! your Boy's a dying. And why, my pretty Lad, said she? Then blubbering, replyed he, A winged Snake has bitten me, Which Country people call a Bee. At which she smil'd; then with her hairs And kisses drying up his tears: Alas! said she, my Wag! if this Such a pernicious torment is: Come tel me then, how great's the smart Of those, thou woundest with thy Dart! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO W.E.B. DUBOIS - SCHOLAR by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BEAUTY THAT IS NEVER OLD by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON LOHENGRIN; PROEM by EMMA LAZARUS FLEMING HELPHENSTINE by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON JOHN BROWN by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE WANDERER: A ROCOCO STUDY (FIRST VERSION) by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS |