The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival With a biographical sketch |
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[Once, on a cloudless summer-day] |
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The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | ||
[Once, on a cloudless summer-day]
Once, on a cloudless summer-day,
Beneath a mantling vine I lay,
When Cupid came by chance that way,
And aimed at me an arrow.
Beneath a mantling vine I lay,
When Cupid came by chance that way,
And aimed at me an arrow.
He laid the dart upon the bow,
And drew the horn and sinew so,
And said, “My friend, you soon will know,
How keenly stings my arrow.”
And drew the horn and sinew so,
And said, “My friend, you soon will know,
How keenly stings my arrow.”
His cheek was gay, his eye was bright,
And shot a piercing, bitter light:
He drew the nerve all tense and tight,
And then let fly his arrow.
And shot a piercing, bitter light:
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And then let fly his arrow.
The bow twanged sharp, and with a bound
At once its mark the weapon found;
I tingled with the fiery wound
Of that soul-kindling arrow.
At once its mark the weapon found;
I tingled with the fiery wound
Of that soul-kindling arrow.
He flapped his wings, away he flew,
And, turning backward, looked me through,
And slyly laughed, as forth I drew
The heart-encrimsoned arrow.
And, turning backward, looked me through,
And slyly laughed, as forth I drew
The heart-encrimsoned arrow.
I felt my blood like lava glow,
I writhed, and twined, and wrestled so,
As madmen in their dying throe,—
I broke and cursed the arrow.
I writhed, and twined, and wrestled so,
As madmen in their dying throe,—
I broke and cursed the arrow.
It is indeed a cruel thing,
When early youth is on the wing,
To feel, and keenly feel, the sting
Of such a poisoned arrow.
When early youth is on the wing,
To feel, and keenly feel, the sting
Of such a poisoned arrow.
The Poetical Works of James Gates Percival | ||