Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Cupid Taught by the Graces

Cupid Taught by the Graces.

It is their summer haunt;—a giant oakStretches its sheltering arms above their heads,And midst the twilight of depending boughsThey ply their eager task. Between them sitsA bright-haired child, whose softly glistening wingsQuiver with joy, as ever and anonHe, at their bidding, sweeps a chorded shell,And draws its music forth. Wondering, he looksFor their approving smile, and quickly drinks(Apt pupil!) from their lips instruction sweet—Divine encouragement! And this is LoveTaught by the Graces how to point his dartsWith milder mercy and discreeter aim;To stir the bosom's lyre to harmony,And waken strains of music from its chordsThey never gave before!