The Tardy Cherub
Cupid snoozed—his alarm betrayed, Wings askew, his bow mislaid. Love showed up a moment late, Blushing, breathless, tempting fate. Turns out hearts still fell just fine— Even tardy arrows hit on time.
Such Beauty
“No spring nor summer-beauty has such grace,
As I have seen in an autumnal face.
Of the latter he says,
In all her words to every hearer fit,
You may at revels, or at council sit.”
John Donne, writing on the beauty of Magdalen Newport, the youngest daughter of Sir Richard, mother of poet George Herbert, in the early 1600’s
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