The Little Old Cupid
'Twas a very small garden; The paths were of stone, Scattered with leaves, With moss overgrown; And a little old Cupid Stood under a tree, With a small broken bow He stood aiming at me. The dog-rose in briars Hung over the weeds, The air was aflock With the floating of seed, And a little old Cupid Stood under a tree, With a small broken bow He stood aiming at me. The dovecote was tumbling, The fountain dry, A wind in the orchard Went whispering by; And a little old Cupid Stood under a tree, With a small broken bow He stood aiming at me.
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"'Twas a very small garden;..."
"The Little Old Cupid" is a quintessential example of Walter De La Mare's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...