Cupid.Lost in a deep morass, With crippled foot.and wing, Pleaded for a ride as I did pass. My steeds were dapple-gray, The harness it was silver-trimmed; The sun's meridian ray 'Round my equipage it swimmed. With kindly care I helped him up On to a cushioned seat of gold: He gave a sort of "cluck," As o'er the road we rolled. I had some liniment, you see, With which I bathed his foot and wing; He had a bow and quiver free, But disordered was the string. Not far upon the road This urchin he grew talkative; And his merriest laughter flowed Like water through a sieve, Till all at once he ceased to speak, And moody grew of mind; A tear went trickling down his cheek The cause it puzzled me to find. Said I: "My little man, What trouble now doth flow?" "Pray help me if you can, For useless is my bow; You see, kind sir, The string it is misplaced; There are some birds astir, With it I could fill thy bag in haste." Mine was a hunting rig, Fine as fine could be; I didn't care a fig For any rival's archery. I put upon his bow a string, And keyed it up with care; He took an arrow fr'om his sling And shot me with it fair. The painful point within my heart Found lodgement true: He vaulted from my cart And went laughing out of view. My horses frightened they became, The lines fell flapping in the wind; The wound was driving me insane, I howled, and cursed, and sinned. For many a rod my horses ran, Free where'er thcy chose; Till sudden they did stand Where a river darkling flows. Here a water-witch was seen To sweep like a vision by; She was ugly, lank, and lean, With a vicious-looking eye. But she took the Shaft away Out of my heart so wounded, 01 And this simple line did say, "Never fix a broken bow." __John P. Campell. |
Poets and Poetry of Kansas
Edited by Thomas W. Herringshaw
(Chicago: American Publishers' Association. 1894)
Page 89
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