Sonnet 41 - Late in the forest I did Cupid see

Late in the forest I did Cupid see

Cold, wet, and crying, he had lost his way,

And being blind was farther like to stray:

Which sight a kind compassion bred in me,

I kindly took and dried him, while that he,

Poor child, complained he starved was with stay,

And pined for want of his accustomed prey,

For none in that wild place his host would be,

I glad was of his finding, thinking sure

This service should my freedom still procure

And in my arms I took him then unharmed

Carrying him unto a myrtle bower

But in the way he made me feel, his power,

Burning my heart who had him kindly warmed.