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.