If thy sweet lip by Cupid had been kissed,
Then thou and I would be no more.
For he that churlish mother’s boy,
Child of that harlot fierce and fake,
Would cause thy love to fade away.
He of the burning arrow and the fires of lust,
Delights in shifting and inconstant loves.
Aiming his bow at hearts of men,
Causing the eye of those he strikes,
To choose again and yet again,
Some different, prettier mate.
He that allows only briefest union,
Before the passion fades and eye is draw,
Once more to glittering fallacy of form.
For such is base desire and formless love.
The life repeating, unfulfilled, insatiable,
Of beastial urge and animal lust.
That love based on the whim of looking glass.
Instead I bless that unknown king of love,
The seeming lesser brother of vile Eros,
Yet who flies of wings of butterflies.
I bless and praise you gentle Anteros.
You who in your beauteous bounty chose,
To let the lips of my sweet love return,
The fervent kisses which I sent to him.
For in your ward he unto me,
Requites the passion I to him do send,
And breathes the sighs that I to him do sigh.
I cannot seek nor see another’s face,
Save as the background to the face I love,
And care not for the brighter form of others.
They are not he and I care not for them.
For you have stricken me with arrows of base lead,
And they, to me are blessed above the gold,
Of kings and princes, darts of other gods.
More precious that sweet lead to me,
Than any gift that different deity could grant.
For I love he and he loves me,
And in the shadows of your wings,
We are made whole. I bless thee Anteros.