The weekly Union times. [volume] (Union C.H., South Carolina) 1871-1894, 1878-04-05
vALERIE's CONFESSION.

They declare that Pm gracefully pretty,
The very best waltzer that whrls
They say am sparkling and witty,
The pearl, the queen rosebud, Of girls.
But ...... alas for the popular blindness!
Its Judgment, though folly, can hurt;
Since ..--. my heart, that runs over with kind
uess,
1t vows is the heart Of ...... Flirtl
How, how can help it, if Nature,
Whose mysteries battle our ken,
Hath made Inc the tenderest creature
That ever hath pity men2
When the shafts of my luminous glances
llavo tortured some sensitive breast,
Why, soften their light till it frances
The poor wounded bosom TO rest
Can help it if, brought from all regions,
AS diverse in features as gait,
Rash lovers besiege me in legions,
Zach lover demanding his fate?
To be cold to such fervors of feeling
Would pronounce me dullard or Ounce;
And so the bare thought sets me reeling
I'm engaged to si1 suitors at oncef
liam
He's lad scarcely witty or wise
The gloom of tho sorrows Of "Iium''
wvuss-s~ssu-sS'-.-.s------
When 1 strove, half in earnest to fout him,
Pale, pale at my footstool ne sunk;
You'd hint that "sweet Willie was ......
drunk
My second, ford Adonis
OF forty y-and-fve, if day,
Drives me out in his pheton with ponies,
Making lova every yard Of the way.
Who SO pleasantly placed could resist him?
Had he popped meath the moonlight and dew
That eve. | could almost have kissed him ....
ia confession alone, dear, for you.)
Next, wdower, polished and youthful,
Far famed for his learning AMI pelf;
Can doubt that his passion is truthful
That he seeks me lone for myself?
Yes; know that some ISLANDERS mutter
His fortune is just taking wings
But scorn the backbitcr who utter
Such basely censorious things ......
Could they hearken his love. whisper, dulcet
AS Aprirs soft tide on the strand,
Whose white curves are loath to repulse it,
So sweet is its homage and bland
Could they hear how his dead wife's devotion
He praises, while yearning for mine
They would own that his ardent emotion
Is something yes almost airine!
My fourtli--would to Heaven could paint him
AS next the high altar he stands
A Saint Jshn all the people bcsaint him
Pale brow and immaculate hands.
AL . HIS tones Ill tnclr WoolnS seem molly,
Nor dare believe it misplaced,
When an arm of the Church, stealing slowly.
Is folded at length, round ...... my waist |!
Behold this long list Of my lovers
With soldier and sailor complete;
Both swear that their hearts were but roycrs
Till fettered and bound at my feet.
Oh dear ! but these worshippers daunt me;
Their claims, their vcxed wishes, appal;
'Tis sad how they harass anu nnunI ME;
What, WHAT shall do ,e,th them all?
LATER.
AS the foam-fakes, when stcadfastly blowing,
The west winds sweep reckless and free,
Are borne where the deep pillows, flowing,
Pass out to limtless sea,
So the gay spume of girlish romances,
Upcaught by true Love on his breath,
With the fretwork and foam of young fancies,
Was borne through vague distance to death.
For he camc-the true hero-onc morning
And my soul with quick thrills of delight
Leaped upward, renewed, and reborn in
world of strange beauty and might
seemed fenced from all earthly disaster;
My pulses beat tuneful and fast;
So welcomed my monarch, my master
The first real love, and the last!
PAUL III. HAYNE.