Delia at Play

She held a CUP AND BALL of ivory white,
LESS WHITE the ivory than her snowy hand!
Enrapt, I watched her from my secret stand,
As now, intent, in INNOCENT delight,
Her taper fingers twirled the giddy ball,
Now tost it, following still with EAGLE SIGHT,
Now on the pointed end INFIXED its fall.
Marking her sport I mused, and musing sighed.
Methought the BALL she played with was my HEART;
(Alas! that sport like THAT should be her pride!)
And the KEEN POINT which steadfast still she eyed
Wherewith to pierce it, that was Cupid's DART;
Shall I not then the cruel Fair condemn
Who ON THAT DART IMPALES my BOSOM'S GEM?