Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1896-08-29

GEORGE L. KHMER
A MODEL LOVE LETTER.
MY DEAR-Every time I think OF
you, my heart fops up and down like
churn dasher. Sensations of ex-
quisite Joy caper over it like young
goats on a stable roof, and thrill through
it like Spanish needles through pair
of tow linen trousers. As gosling
swimmith with delight in q mud pud-
die, 80 swim I in sea of glory.
Visions Of extatic- rapture, thicker
than the hairs of a blacking brush and
brighter than the hues of humming
birds pinions visit me in my slumbers,
and borne on invisible wings, your
image stands out before me and I grasp
it like a painter swapping at blue
butterfly.
When I first beheld your angelic
perfection I was bewildered, and my
brain whirled around like bumble-
bee in glass tumbler. My eyes stood
open like cellar door in country
town and I lifted up my ears to catch
the silvery accents of your voice. My
tongue refused to wag, and in silent
alteration drank In the sweet infec-
ton of love as a thirsty man swallow
eth tumbler of hot whisky punch.
Since the light of your face fell upon
my life, sometimes feel as if I could
lift myself up by my boot-straps to the
top of the church steeple and pull the
bell rope for singing school.
Day and night you are in my
thoughts.
When Aurora, blushing like bride,
rises from her saffron colored couch
when the jay bird pipes his tuneful
lay in the apple-tree by the spring.
house; when the chanticleer's shrill
clarion voice heralds the coming
morn; when the awakening pig aris.
eth from his bed and grunteth, and
going for his mornings refreshments
when the drowsy beetle wheels to
droning flight at sultry noon-tide and
when the lowing herds come home at
milking time, I think of thee and
like a piece of gum elastic, my heart
seems stretched clear across my bos-
lon. y;
f. your hair is Ike the name of a-sor.
rel horse powdered with gold; and
the brass pins screwed through your
waterfall I'll me with unbounded awe.
Your forehead is smoother than the
elbow of an old coat; your eyes are
glorious to behold. In their liquid
depths I see legions of little cupids,
bathing, like cohort of ants in an
old army cracker. When their fire
hits me upon my manly breast, it pen.
etrated my whole anatomy, as load
of bird-shot through rotten apple.
Your nose is from chunk of parian
marble, and your mouth is puckered
with sweetness. Nectar fingers on
your lips, like honey on bears paw !;
and myriads of unpledged kisses are
there ready to fly out and light some
where, like blue-birds out of their
parents nest. Your laugh rings in
my ears like the wind-harp's strain,
or the bleat of stray lamb on bleak
hillside. The dimples on your cheeks
are like bows on beds Of roses, hollows
in cakes of homemade sugar.
am dying to fly to thy presence,
and pour out the burning eloquence of
my love, as a thrifty housekeeper
pours out hot coffee. Away from you
I am melancholy as sick rat.
Sometimes I can hear the June bugs
of dependency buzzing in my ears,
and feel the cold lizards of dispare
crawling down my back. Uncouth
fears, like a thousand minnows, nib
BILE at my spirits, and my soul is
pierced with doubts as an old cheese is
bored with shippers.
My love for you is stronger than the
smell of Cuffey's patent butter, as the
kick of a young cow, and more unself-
ish than a kittens first cater-waul. As
a song. bird handkers for the light Of
day, the cautious mouse for the fresh
bacon in the trap, as a mean pup ham
kers after new milk, 80 I long for thee.
You are fairer than speckled pull
let, sweeter than a yankey doughnut
fried in sorgum molasses, brighter than
a topknot plumage on muscovy duck.
You are candy kisses, raisins, pound
cake and sweetened toddy altogether.
If these remarks will enable you to
see the inside of my soul, and me to
win your affections, I shall be as hap
py as a woodchuck on cherry tree,
as a stagehorse in green pasture. If
you cannot reciprocate my thrilling
passion, I will pine away from -four
ishing vine of life, and untimely
branch; and in the coming years,
when the shadows grow from the bills,
and the philosophical frog sings his
cheerful evening hymns, you, happy in
aHother's love, can come and drop a
tear and catch a cold upon the last
resting place of yours affectionately.