Ye Cupids, droop each little head,
Nor let your wings with joy be spread:
My Lesbia's favourite bird is dead,
Whom dearer than her eyes she loved.


Carmina, III, l. 1-4

Catullus Quotes

Ye Cupids, droop each little head, Nor let your wings with joy be spread: My Lesbia's favourite bird is dead, Whom dearer than her eyes she loved.

Ye Cupids, droop each little head, Nor let your wings with joy be spread: My Lesbia's favourite bird is dead, Whom dearer than her eyes she loved.

Ye Cupids, droop each little head, Nor let your wings with joy be spread: My Lesbia's favourite bird is dead, Whom dearer than her eyes she loved.

Ye Cupids, droop each little head, Nor let your wings with joy be spread: My Lesbia's favourite bird is dead, Whom dearer than her eyes she loved.