Constantine republican. [volume] (Constantine, Mich.) 1836-1838, 1837-03-15

you've MADE slave OF my poor heart,
And cut my very lights apart. ~
M--Mndness has drank your souls pure fountain,
Your words fall like a mountain;
Who sputters thus tobacco spittIe
Hath never loved me jot or little.
H-Oh lass, of late so pert and clever,
Say you, fair one, lov'd you never.
My Hebcs youth think SO now,
You spurn me SO and knit your brow.
H-Remember you the hemlock grove
Where first we tall1'd Of bliss and love,
When cypress wrcaths and twigs of willow
Formed for our heads downy pillow;
Tall forest trees stood thick around
And datlodils concealed the ground;
Your fathers house, though in our view,
Uur whereabouts no mortal knew
The story has too long a tain
To tell it now my lungs would fail.
MO hear me Hank, and I'll be frank,
To give you all my history;
My heart is panied till I've explained.
What seems to you mystery.
H-O Molly fair, your explanation
Would only prove IN aggravation.
Although you knew how hard loved
How soon you false and faithless proved;
When in my ship took my station
To fight the battles of the nation,
swore by all the stars above
I'd not go back to see my love;
But time and cash in travel squander
And over all creation wander
Like lightning's fash your cousins arrow
Cracked my bones and dried their marrow,
With fearful noise then burst my heart,
My lights and liver fell apart,
'Gainst rocks and stumps mashed my toes
And clotted blood besmeared my nose.
To tell you now can't begin,
How great a stew it put me in.
M-With grief, dear Hank, Il can't do lcss,)
My error foul do confess
And hope it now will come to pass,
That you'll forgive your grieving lass.
H-You crave of me no grievous task,
Long since granted what you ask.
My love for you was far too great
To be exchanged for scorn and hate,
Or ever to evaporate
In visions through my porous pate.
What'er your lot, where'cr you roam,
Whatever place you make your home;
Tho welded now, when'cr you wed
And with your husband go to bed,
My love for you shall stick like wax,
Or swingle-tow of hemp or flax;
Like tick to sheep, or louise to pate.
Or turkey buzzard to its mate.
M-Oh, Hank how good-you are the fellow
To eat peach that's ripe and mellow.
The solemn truth I'll tell you now,
I'm not another's, any how.
To cure the wound when Cupid's dart
Has punched hole into my heart,
Ten doctors would not be enough.
With each load Of doctors stuff.
My cousin, flirting little jill,
The fat all in the fire has split
She wrote to you (she should know bettcr)
Avery mischief making letter
Oh Hank! don't gaze upon me so.
The gospel truth I'll let you know:
A gentleman from southern land
With cash in plenty then on hand,
And cotton bags enough at home
To furnish funds all time TO como,
And woody heads on his plantation
Enough to stock little nation;
He tried his hand and cut his capers,
But soon gave him walking papers.
Now, Hank, as expect salvation,
The rest was all Imagination,
And lies, by scores, bakers dozen,
Told by my little jilting cousin.
My heart is true as holy writ
And ne'er has wavered jot or whit.
H-O, pardon me, my head is giddy,
My sight grows dim, my hands unsteady;
The sun shines out, the mist of years
Dissolves apace and disappears.
o never with heart more FREQ
Have e'er my arms encircled thee.
Your sight to me has been abhorrent,
But now my love is like torrent,
And so take you during life
To be my lawful welded wife;
Well bill and COO like doves in cages,
Our love shall last through endless ages.
Dated, No particular Place,
March 9th. 1897.