Cupid at last Draws his bow and softly lets fly a dart. Smile for a moment, sad world!-- It has grazed the white skin and drawn blood from the sorrowful heart. Now, for delight, Cupid tosses his locks and goes wantonly near; But the child that was born to the cross Has let fall on his cheek, for the sadness of life, a compassionate tear. Marvellous dream! Cupid has offered his arrows for Jesus to try; He has offered his bow for the game. But Jesus went weeping away, and left him there wondering why. * * * * * JAMES STEPHENS THE RIVALS I heard a bird at dawn Singing sweetly on a tree, That the dew was on the lawn, And the wind was on the lea; But I didn't listen to him, For he didn't sing to me. I didn't listen to him, For he didn't sing to me That the dew was on the lawn And the wind was on the lea; I was singing at the time Just as prettily as he. I was singing all the time, Just as prettily as he, About the dew upon the lawn And the wind upon the lea; So I didn't listen to him And he sang upon a tree. THE GOAT PATHS The crooked paths go every way Upon the hill--they wind about Through the heather in and out Of the quiet sunniness. And there the goats, day after day, Stray in sunny quietness, Cropping here and cropping there, As they pause and turn and pass, Now a bit of heather spray, Now a mouthful of the grass. In the deeper sunniness, In the place where nothing stirs, Quietly in quietness, In the quiet of the furze, For a time they come and lie Staring on the roving sky. If you approach they run away, They leap and stare, away they bound, With a sudden angry sound, To the sunny quietude; Crouching down where nothing stirs In the silence of the furze, Couching down again to brood In the sunny solitude. If I were as wise as they I would stray apart and brood, I would beat a hidden way Through the quiet heather spray To a sunny solitude; And should you come I'd run away, I would make an angry sound, I would stare and turn and bound To the deeper quietude, To the place where nothing stirs In the silence of the furze. In that airy quietness I would think as long as they; Through the quiet sunniness I would stray away to brood By a hidden beaten way In a sunny solitude. I would think until I found Something I can never find, Something lying on the ground, In the bottom of my mind. THE SNARE (To A.E.) I hear a sudden cry of pain! There is a rabbit in a snare: Now I hear the cry again, But I cannot tell from where. But I cannot tell from where He is calling out for aid; Crying on the frightened air, Making everything afraid. Making everything afraid, Wrinkling up his little face, As he cries again for aid; And I cannot find the place! And I cannot find the place Where his paw is in the snare: Little one! Oh, little one! I am searching everywhere. IN WOODS AND MEADOWS