Cupid and my Campaspe played <br />At cards for kisses; Cupid paid: <br />He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows, <br />His mother's doves, and team of sparrows; <br />Loses them too; then down he throws <br />The coral of his lip, the rose <br />Growing on's cheek (but none knows how); <br />With these, the crystal of his brow, <br />And then the dimple on his chin; <br />All these did my Campaspe win: <br />And last he set her both his eyes - <br />She won, and Cupid blind did rise. <br /> <br />O Love! has she done this to thee? <br />What shall, alas! become of me?<br /><br />John Lyly<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/apelles-song/
