Cupid and Campaspe

…from the quills of dead white poets

 

John Lyly (1554 – 1606)

 

Cupid and my Campaspe play’d

At cards for kisses; Cupid paid:

He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,

His mother’s doves, and team of sparrows;

Loses them too; then down he throws

Campaspe

 

The coral of his lip, the rose

growing on’s cheek (but none knows how);

With these, the crystal of his brow,

And then the dimple of his chin;

All these did my Campaspe win.

At last he set her both his eyes:

She won, and Cupid blind did rise.

O Love, has she done this to thee?

What shall, alas, become of me?

About Avadoro Worden

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