Connecticut western news., 1877-08-03
For the CONN. WKsTHRH NEws.1
 Iti About Love.
BY GRAHAM D.

Love is a curious passion at the best; It creates vain fears it dislurbs our rest. Jealousy glows, while our strength decays. Except when fed by artificial ways. Some on kisses feed their ardent love: Others derive their inspiration from above. Some, in vain endeavor to be quiet; Others live upon an onion diet These, of course, are Of the German kind; Their love is like 6 torrent and as blind. We pity him who loves, and cannot tell Far Somebody what he feels so well. We pity hlm who strives, but in vain, To conquer her he cannot gain; But with what sorrow do we pity him Whose love is but an accidental whim; He, for moment loves her to destruction, But soon his passion changes by abstraction. Pity him why no, we must be mad To pity such diplomatic lad. We consider him 6 perfect fend of plies, Whose feryent love Is not placed amiss: We think the gods on such man have smiled; A hero, he himself has styl.d, And gluries in the love he's won, And thinks it all the best of fun. She, poor thing. sighs in her lone retreat, Refusing the food she was wont to greet, Thinks of her pet, who is then, perchancs Whirling some other fair one in the dance; Or if not this, with cronies he is riotinR, His neighbors' sleepy head diequieting; And then again there is another kind, Whom connoiseurs denominates as blind. They fall in love as we into pool, Then anxious wait for some other fool To pull them out, then turn on him, And vent their spitefulnens with vim:
 Twere best to leave such heroes to destruction, Or else they exercise thsir power of suction, And to Bacchus pay kind of tribute, By playing on the bowl, if not the flute. The flute said I No, that belongs to Pan, 'Tis the same as long as he's not man, For any of the gods win do for Bacchus, If they with reverence but attack us, But the bowl is known by great rspute, To drown more quickly sorrow, than the flute. So Muse of Music though he loves thy grace,l The banished lover prefers wet disgrace. Alas that beauty should the man deranRe, And in her fallen victim work the change. lover still there is, -, 'tis he Who is loved, and loves most fervently. mean the man who has no fears,
 But that hls leve can last for years; Let the fungus creation of day,
 As quick in growth, as swift in its decay, But towering like old Cheops to the sky, He rears pyramid of love on high. (Now tfyou think this aimile too great,
 I'll write another and let you dictate)
 This is the kind of man VI ho reads not OCT
 The works of Byron, Scott, or Moore,
 But prefers instead, the feelings of his heart, Than like the many play thievinR part, | Say ladies, do you like this kind, Or are you to their virtues blindf
 See not in man handsome form and face,
 They are too often beacons of disgrace.
 But this last couplet smacks too much of p,oss. To give advice is not what propose, | For women will be women so they say:
 And Tn love as well as talking, have their way, l '1is not for me to turn her pretty head,
 So Il retract what before I've said.
 Let her love whoever she can love,
 And lot some other power from above
 Dictate her passions nor expose her years. Quiet her nerves, and dispel her fears, | Lot men the same, be blessed with female truth.
 Have virtue. gentlemen, fit takes tooth.
 Quarrel not with your better O half, Nor kill for her vanity the "iattec calf"
 "An eye for an eye," some people say,
 Is we'll to be indulged- some cooler day.
 If you truly love no quarrel will arise,
 Peace and quiet will protect your eyes.
 But now to close,-I've said too much already.
 My hand, if not my head is quite unsteady. -
 But what on earth is this all about
 The answer leave for others to find out.
 'Tis my first efusion- ct mon dsrnier;
 now resign to Maurice Vernier