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Upon Cupid.

Love, like a beggar, came to me

    With hose and doublet torn:

    His shirt bedangling from his knee,

    With hat and shoes outworn.

    He ask'd an alms; I gave him bread,

    And meat too, for his need:

    Of which, when he had fully fed,

    He wished me all good speed.

    Away he went, but as he turn'd

    (In faith I know not how)

    He touch'd me so, as that I burn['d],

    And am tormented now.

    Love's silent flames and fires obscure

    Then crept into my heart;

    And though I saw no bow, I'm sure

    His finger was the dart.

By Robert Herrick

https://www.public-domain-poetry.com/robert-herrick/upon-cupid-19193

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