BION'S SONG OF EROS.

EROS is the god of love;

He and I are hand-in-glove.

All the gentle, gracious Muses

Follow Eros where he leads,

And they bless the bard who chooses

To proclaim love's famous deeds;

Him they serve in rapturous glee,—

That is why they're good to me.

Sometimes I have gone astray

From love's sunny, flowery way:

How I floundered, how I stuttered!

And, deprived of ways and means,

What egregious rot I uttered,—

Such as suits the magazines!

I was rescued only when

Eros called me back again.

Gods forefend that I should shun

That benignant Mother's son!

Why, the poet who refuses

To emblazon love's delights

Gets the mitten from the Muses,—

Then what balderdash he writes!

I love Love; which being so,

See how smooth my verses flow!

Gentle Eros, lead the way,—

I will follow while I may:

Be thy path by hill or hollow,

I will follow fast and free;

And when I'm too old to follow,

I will sit and sing of thee,—

Potent still in intellect,

Sit, and sing, and retrospect.