TO CUPID.
If Love his arrows shoot so fast, Soon his feathered stock will wasto; But I mistake in thinking so, Lovo's arrows in his quiver grow; How can hc want- artillery ? That appears too true in me : Two shafts feed upon my breaet, > Gh make it quiver for the rest! Kill me with love, thcu angry son Of Cytherea, or lefc one, One sharp golden arrow fly To wound her heart for whom I die. Cupid, if thou beest a child, Ba no god, or be more mild. ■ — Jamea Shirley (1632).
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/DIGRSA19200430.2.8
Bibliographic details
Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 7, 30 April 1920, Page 3
Word Count
92TO CUPID. Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 7, 30 April 1920, Page 3
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