Unconscious of the vital wound that Cupid’s
  shaft hath made,
He only feels a thrill of Jove beneath his
  shoulder-blade.

And slipping on his overcoat–still heedless of
  the dart–
He hastens down the Avenue to call on Dora
  Hart.

“O Dora, give your heart to me!” he pleads
  on bended knees.
“That hump! That hump!” the maiden cries.
  “That hump, sir, if you please!”

“What hump?” demands the startled youth,
  quite filled with consternation.
And then, amazed, he comprehends his sudden
  malformation.