The Wyandot pioneer. (Upper Sandusky, Ohio) 1853-1868, 1857-04-09

By THE BARD OF UPPER sANDUsKY
And thou art false, I've proved it now,
How oft you've made my spirit bow,
Spurned from your presence one who'd share
Y our constant toll, and constant care
Remember when we strayed along
The silent brook, and sung the SONG
The syren song of pleasure bright,
While shades had gathered DER the night.
In early youth, loved thee much,
II thee put my fondest trust,
Thy sprightly form and manly face,
The fight of time can nc'er erase.
Thy cheerful soul, expanding mind,
loved TO see-you then was kind,
No imperfection then had marked,
I dreamed that we would never part;
Those pleasant times in youthful glee,
They come afresh in memory.
When at the pleasant party there
We had appeared with cheerful air,
How oft you pressed my hand SO kind,
And vowed indeed you would be mine
For life, in death, indeed forever.
And naught in life could even sever.
But you are false, indeed you are;
! must resign my fondest care;
That cold, forsaken, ugly look,
| cannot, never will brook.
They told me you was fond of rum,
Gould not the h:lbit overcome;
That on the Sabbath day would 90,
To haunts of wretchedness and wo,
Though thus inclined TO disbelieve,
Yet how it did my spirit griaye:
would not listen to the truth,
Because you was lonely youth:
And yet for all, had loved you yet,
Was glad to see you when we met.
How strange it is; yea, passing strange,
While DER this subject dorange;
cannot break the youthful spell,
Which in my bosom deeply dwells;
How strong is love, how deep the smart
That elings about wounded heart,
TO tell is vain, never can
My mind unfold to sinful man.
How strange that sorrow loves to feed.
On one that is broken reed.
could defy the storms of life,
Stand in the field of battle strife,
| Listen to the thunders coarse
| Uttering murmurs wild and hoarse,
And view fierce lightning in the sky,
| Its zigzag stroke, come passing by,
Observe the whirlwind in its sweep,
And then withal could scarcely weep;
4 But ah! wounded spirit, who can bare,
How deep the pain that settles there.
! Who is it that can give relief,
Can furnish me a place to weep
! A place where no cold looks are found,
Where may rest and be unknown?
How it mig ht then refresh my mind,
If such place now might find.
I've often heard of lovers thus,
That had confded, and had trust,
Yet broken vows had come at last,
And thus their sky was overcast:
But to feel il, and to know,
A fluttering heart to suffer so,
Is what is now the most severe,
And causes ME to shed tear
They talk of .music's sweetest strains,
4 And flowers that doth the valleys range:
Of honor, riches, and delights of earth,
OF pleasures, joyfulness and mirth:
But what are music's notes to me,
Or flowers, though they nice may be,
Orhonors, riches, pleasure bright
They can afford me no delight;
My days of joy are passed, and I,
, Like others, shortly too omust die,
cannot, will not, have a sot
To suffer such painful lot,
feel the whitening stroke of death,
MY pulse grows feeble, and my breath;
/ court the grave, it's rest for me,
That may you no longer see;
You've caused this heart of mine to bleed,
Much more than any use or need.
Say, DEAR, when am dead and gone,
VIII you be COOL and try reform?
, Will you my grave, then cometo see,
And cherish me in memory?
Say, will you plant some flower there,
/ And nourish it with holy care?
Or shed tear of sorrow then,
For your wounded constant friend?
| Will you think, when am dead,
Of withered hopes. how have bled,
In silent hour, when made to weep,
And only tears would give relief?
How sweet will be my resting place,
So free of harm and sad disgrace,
, Then cruel friends, h owever pure,
May mock the grief they cannot cure.