This page has been validated.
195
LOVE AND THE THISTLE.
As Cupid was flying about one day,
With the flowers and zephyrs in wanton play,
He 'spied in the air,
Floating here and there,
A winged seed of the Thistle-flower,
And merrily chased it from bower to bower.
And young Love cried to his playmates, "See,
I've found the true emblem-flower for me,
For I am as light
In my wavering flight
As this feathery star of soft Thistle-down,
Which by each of you zephyrs about is blown.
See, how from a Rose's soft warm blush
It flies, to be caught in a bramble bush;—
And as oft do I,
In my wand'rings, hie
From beauty to those who have none, I trow;
Reckless as Thistle-down, on I go."
So the sly little God still flits away
