ONCE Venus, deeming Love too fat, Stopped all his rich, ambrosial dishes, Dooming the boy to live on chat, -- To sup on songs and dine on wishes. Love, lean and lank, flew off to prowl, -- The starveling now no beauty boasted, -- He could have munched Minerva's owl, Or Juno's peacock, boiled or roasted. At last, half famished, almost dead, He shot his mother's doves for dinner; Young Lilla, passing, shook her head, -- Cried Love, "A shot at you, young sinner!" "Oh, not at me!" she urged her flight -- "I'm neither dove, nor lark, nor starling!" "No," fainting Cupid cried, "not quite; But then -- you're such a duck, my darling!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE WHEEL OF BEING II by HAYDEN CARRUTH ON VIOLET'S WAFERS, SENT ME WHEN I WAS ILL by SIDNEY LANIER SURFACES AND MASKS; 30 by CLARENCE MAJOR TO BEACHEY, 1912 by CARL SANDBURG BEFORE A STATUE OF ACHILLES by GEORGE SANTAYANA COLLEGE DRINKING SONG by GEORGE SANTAYANA |