At Dawn and Dusk

Cupid’s Funeral

Victor James Daley


BY his side, whose days are past,
    Lay bow and quiver!
And his eyes that stare aghast
    Close, with a shiver.
God nor man from Death, at last,
    Love may deliver.

Though—of old—we vowed, my dear,
    Death should not take him;
Mourn not thou that we must here
    Coldly forsake him;
Shed above his grave no tear—
    Tears will not wake him.

Cupid lieth cold and dead—
    Ended his flying,
Pale his lips, once rosy-red,
    Swift was his dying.
Place a stone above his head,
    Turn away, sighing.


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