Classic Poem

When Love doth lie a-dreaming
His weapons you may spy—
His arrows by him gleaming,
And eke his bow doth lie.

But when he is assailing
Some maiden's tender heart,
It is all unavailing
To think to see his dart.

His bunch of fatal lances,
And eke his mighty bow,
Display but in his glances,
Or in his smile do show.

Who'd think that eyes so pleading
Had ever, mocking, laughed?
Or his red lips, receding,
Could speed such fatal shaft?

O maids, who hope to capture
His arms of sorcery,
Seek him when noonday rapture
A-dreaming makes him lie!

Thus, when the sun is beaming,
Go steal his arms away;
For when thou art a-dreaming
Then Love will have his day!