And why a boy was he？

    He should have been a girl，

    For aught that I can see.

    For he shoots with his bow，

    And the girl shoots with her eye，

    And they both are merry and glad，

    And laugh when we do cry.

    And to make Cupid a boy

    Was the Cupid girl's mocking plan；

    For a boy can't interpret the thing

    Till he is become a man.

    And then he's so pierc'd with cares，

    And wounded with arrowy smarts，

    That the whole business of his life

    Is to pick out the heads of the darts¹.

    'Twas the Greeks' love of war

    Turn'd Love into a boy，

    And woman into a statue of stone——

    And away fled every joy.