LOVE AND THE THISTLE. AS CUPID was flying about one day, With the flowers and zephyrs in wanton play, He 'spied in the air, Floating here and there, A winged seed of the Thistle-flower, And young Love cried to his playmates, For I am as light In my wavering flight As this feathery star of soft Thistle-down, "See, Which by each of you zephyrs about is blown. See, how from a Rose's soft warm blush It flies, to be caught in a bramble bush; In my wand'rings, hie From beauty to those who have none, I trow; Reckless as Thistle-down, on I go." So the sly little God still flits away Mid earth's loveliest flow'rets, day by day; A A |