Author Frederick Adam Wright Cupid from his crafty bow Rains his burning arrows on me, Never lets a moment go But some harm he's done me. So my vengeance now I take On the little winged sinner And his mother witness make He was the beginner. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments