Explore "The Blind Archer" by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Little boy Love drew his bow at a chance, / Shooting down at the ballroom floor; / He hit an old chaperone watching the dance, / And oh! but he wounded her sore. / ‘Hey, Love, you couldn't mean that! / Hi, Love, what would you be at? ' / No word would he say, / But he flew on his way, / For the little boy's busy, and how could he stay?
Little boy Love drew a shaft just for sport / At the soberest club in Pall Mall; / He winged an old veteran drinking his port, / And down that old veteran fell. / ‘Hey, Love, you mustn't do that! / Hi, Love, what would you be at? / This cannot be right! / It's ludicrous quite! ' / But it's no use to argue, for Love's out of sight.