Page:Field Poems of Childhood.djvu/216



O, Cupid, and my sweetheart tell

I love her well.

Yes, though she tramples on my heart

And rends that bleeding thing apart;

And though she rolls a scornful eye

On doting me when I go by;

And though she scouts at everything

As tribute unto her I bring—

Apple, banana, caramel—

Haste, Cupid, to my love and tell,

In spite of all, I love her well!

And further say I have a sled

Cushioned in blue and painted red!

The groceryman has promised I

Can "hitch" whenever he goes by—

Go, tell her that, and, furthermore,

Apprise my sweetheart that a score

Of other little girls implore