Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1886-06-23
ALPENA WEEKLY ARGUS.
MISCELLANEOUS.
A TALE OF woMAn's HEART.

THE following poem was written by thu
late John u. Cough when seventeen years OF
age. il was preserved in an old scrap 'bool
belonging 10 Mrs. y. Il. Bur'not. of this city
The scrap-book has been used by scvcra
members of the family in various ways, and
until now the poem given below has never
been published
OH dost thou wish me to impnrt
The plaintve tale of woman's hearth
Come then, tits evenings pensive hour;
Come TO your silent lonely tower;
There, whore tho summer gales are mute
With cypress will wreath my lutte,
And sadly, tearfully impart
The mournful tale OF woman heart.
In chidhood's faircst brightest years
Her early smiles are chased by tears;
Reproofs subduc. restrictions bind,
Her bounding will and so tring mind;
Her joys deludc, her pnstimes ny,
Her buds and blossoms droop and die;
And disappointment constant smart
Inures TO grief her infant heart.
New Joys, new grefs are hers TO prove,
Love-Oh! what mighty thoughts are
BY that all.potent. conquering wordl
Love- that can lightly, galy scan
With passing wing the mind OF man
But reigns in its reslstless art,
The sovereign OF woman's heart.
Perchancc her hea't Ia doomed TO burn
with love that does not meet return;
In secret grief, in silent shame,
She cherishes her helpless flame;
Her spirits sink. her bloom Ia gone;
All hopes desert her mind but one
The hope that death will soon impart
Peace TO her lone and widowed heart.
And prudence pours warning strain;
Oficious friends advise, reprove,
And speak of wealth and SCOT Mt love.
She yields TO cautious, rigid laws,
ttaaa n
hut stern remorse has fixed her dart
Forever in her bleeding heart.
iPerchance she forms a worthless choice,
land meets the worlds rcbuklng voice;
She hears the name so lov'd, so dear.
Pronounced with scorn, with taunts severe.
She owns them just, her soul Is tried
By rital passons-lovc and pride;
Mh! pride removes not loves keen dart,
But bids IL tester i'm her heart.
Perchanco her feelings all approve,
She wins her first, her only love.
Alas! she ooon must learn to brook
Tho hasty word, the frigid look; .
The trivial, but repeated slight
That chills tho spirit like blight.
Oh! hourly thus will man impart
New trials TO woman's heart.
Such Is or lot-in soul and mind
From infancy dcbascd, confined,
Forbid 70 seek rcnown or fame,
Condemned to duties dull and tame,
Love is the sweet and single rny
That sparkles on her lonely way.
She secs that mcteor's light depart.
And darkness shrouds her joylcss heart.
land wDuld'st thou her lot would trnce
when beautys bloom deserts her face,
when gaZcrs pass unkindly by
Her faded cheek and rayless eye;
when he, the loved ono OF her youth,
Breathes Mt n fairer shrine his truth?
Oh! ceaso-nor ask me to impart
The last sad tale OF woman's heart
Hark, round our bower the night winds
rise,
Dark clouds o'crsprcad the murky skies,
Tho min dcsccnds in gusty showers.
And bends tho woodbincs' dropping flowers.
NV tale Is DER, these clouds, this gloom,
Where all was lately warmth and bloom,
It's sad and mournful close impart,
And Cell the wreck of womnn's heart.
philadelphia Press.