Classic Poem

It happen'd that Cupid one day,
The urchin is heedless and young,
By a bee, while a-sleeping it lay
Unseen on a rose-bud was stung.

Then quick to Cythera ran he,
Exclaiming, Mamma, I'm undone;
And a serpent, that men call a bee,
By his sting proves the death of your son,

Quoth Venus, Thou well may'st complain
Of the wound of the sting of a bee,
But think how much greater their pain,
Who are pierc'd through with arrows by thee.