CUPID SWALLOWED
Reading edition
T’other day, as I was twining Roses, for a crown to dine in, What, of all things, midst the heap, Should I light on, fast asleep, But the little desperate elf, The tiny traitor—Love himself! By the wings I pinch’d him up Like a bee, and in a cup Of my wine I plunged and sank him; And what d’ye think I did?—I drank him! Faith! I thought him dead. Not he! There he lives with tenfold glee; And now this moment, with his wings I feel him tickling my heart-strings. Leigh Hunt.
