Sentimental valentine writer/The Ladies' Valentine Writer
THE
LADIES’ VALENTINE WRITER.
Cupid, to my lover bear
This letter, with my vows sincere,
Inspire him with thy flame divine,
And let him be my Valentine.
Whilst I with hope my love impart,
Return thy love to me;
And let thy smile delight a heart
That beats alone for thee.
I oft in thought recal the hour
You plighted love to me,
And pray that heaven may kindly shower
Its manly gifts on thee.
If with true love a heart can beat,
I’m sure that heart is mine;
Each hour I pray that I may meet
The faithful love of thine.
Ye gentle gales that waft my sighs.
Go to the youth for whom they rise,
And win him to approve my prayer,
That he will love and end my care.
Oh! would he deign on me to smile,
All my wo it would beguile;
Blest indeed the days of mine,
When passed with such a Valentine.
Sweet youth, be mine, thy charms divine
Subdue my stubborn heart;
At Hymen’s shrine, oh! call me thine,
And never, never part.
Let sordid mortals search for wealth,—
This never shall be my employ;
Give me but competence and health,
I envy not their short-lived joy.
Yet this one hope I keep in view,
If there is bliss for me in store;
Oh! may I be but blessed with you,
I will not ask or wish for more.
Art thou not dear unto my heart?
Oh, search that heart and see,
And from my bosom tear the part
That beats not true to thee.
Yes, to that bosom thou art dear,
More dear than words can tell:
And if a fault be cherished there,
’Tis loving thee too well.
Long may our hearts united prove
The nuptial joys of faithful love;
And may your love return to me
As constant as my love for thee.
A heart that boasts a tender flame,
Sincere and constant too;
Long time has tried your love to claim,
And vows 'twill e’er be true.
Then say at once you will incline
To be my faithful Valentine.
To me your vows you’ve oft addressed,
As oft a fervent love expressed;
But yon have altered much of late,—
I fear you seek another mate.
If so, why longer wear the mask?
If mine must be the painful task
To give you up, I’ll now resign
Him whom I thought my Valentine.
Oh! wo is me! my tender heart
Is pierced with Cupid’s fatal dart,
Long time against its point I strove,
But find it vain to strive ’gainst Love.
Dear youth, the maid who sends you this,
Entreats you’ll not take it amiss,
That thus to ease the painful smart
With which your absence grieves her heart,
She pens these lines, that they may prove
A pledge of her unceasing love.
If you would think dear youth, on me,
As fondly as I think on thee,
How happy then might be my life,
Thy chosen love, and wedded wife:
But if I may not hope to gain
The heart I’ve sighed for long in vain,
To none will I this hand resign,
But die—thy faithful Valentine.
Dear youth! I in these lines would tell,
How long I lov’d you, and how well:
But language scarcely can impart
The feelings of my swelling heart.
You in my eyes the truth must seek,
And in the blush that paints my cheek,
Or trembling hand, with which I sign
Myself your own fond Valentine.
May we now the bliss improve,—
May the power of purest love,
With its sweetest blands unite,
Whilst all to love and joy invite.
Were I possessed of fortune’s store
I’d give it all to thee,
For thy affection still is more
Than all the world to me.
And can you then your love express,
A heart so true, resign?
Dear youth, return my tenderness.
And be my Valentine.
St. Valentine’s day at length is here,
A day to lovers still held dear;
To customary rites I bend,
And thus to you, my love, I send.
An answer write, and let it be
The record of your love to me.
Accept these wishes which your maiden sends,
Ne’er may you feel the want of steadfast friends;
May health, and wealth, and happiness be thine,
And may you welcome this—my Valentine;
Have I another—yes, one wish in store,
That some day we may meet to part no more.
Dear youth, thy form I lately viewed,
(Whilst wrapt in sleep I lay,)
Beside my couch you bending stood,
Love’s fondest vows to pay,
I woke—you vanished from my view,—
But tell me,—will my dream come true?
Since I saw you at the ball,
I’m sure my peace is flown;
At night I get no rest at all,
My dreams are you alone.
You was my partner; and I wish
To be the same for life,
Content along with you to pair,
A kind obedient wife.
Then say, dear sir, if you incline
To take me for a Valentine.
The greatest bliss that I can know,
The greatest joy Heaven can bestow,
Will be when Hymen, god divine!
Unites me to my Valentine.
A ⟨Valentine⟩ (illegible text)
And think if (illegible text) receiv’d,
Yet, could it be indeed (illegible text)
You’d send a Valentine?
If ’twas for mere amusement’s sake,
You practis’d every line;
Why then, in dudgeon I must take
Your wicked Valentine.
If love did expectations raise,
To kneel in Hymen’s shrine;
I must consider, then, your lays,
A pretty Valentine.
How shall my faithful heart confess,
Or humble words like these express,
Unchanging love and true!
O! could I once my love declare,
Or half the fond affection share,
My bosom feels for you!
If my tongue in faint expression,
Feebly speaks the love I feel;
Yet thee I love beyond confession,
Love my lips but ill reveal.
To tell thee of my passion true,
Of all that I have felt for you,
Of what I ne’er can cease to feel,
I would, but cannot now, reveal.
A Valentine will not admit
Sufficient space to compass it;
A single line must serve to own
I love but you, and you alone.
Should this, my frank avowal, give
Delight to you, for whom I live,
Let the reply which you transmit,
In candid terms acknowledge it.
(illegible text) hearts uniting,
May ⟨faithful⟩ (illegible text) joys improve,
(illegible text) in fond hope delighting,
Form for us the bonds of love.
How sweet are the early spring flow’rs,
Enliv’ning the winter clad plain!
Not a bird on the tree but carols to see,
Reviving those beauties and bow’rs,
You’ve sighed for with me, but in vain.
The pleasure which I own is mine
In sending yon this Valentine,
I trust, on its receipt, may be,
Participated, too, by thee;
And though but few the lines appear,
Their purport is not less sincere;
My object being thus to prove
The firm attachment of my love.
Once more returns the welcome day,
When lovers breathe their tender lay;
And once again would I rehearse
My love to thee, in humble verse.
Yet would I not, with low intent,
As others, write for compliment;
Nor but for fashion now proclaim
A love which ever is the same.
For days may pass, and seasons fail,
My love for thee must still prevail;
Yes, love like mine, as strong as pure,
Through all shall last while life endure.
How hard that my thoughts I must now
To rhyme and to measure confine:
More difficult ’tis you’ll allow,
To find a sincere Valentine.
Though I had the pen of a Pope,
To render harmonious each line;
How could I by poetry hope,
To obtain a sincere Valentine?
On one I need only depend,
I want not the assistance of nine;
May love, then, sweet love, recommend,
A fond and sincere Valentine.
Blithely budding fruits and flowers,
Are coming with the spring-tide hours;
But what are all their charms for me;
Dear youth, believe, I sigh for thee.
My heart has beat for thee full long,
At morning’s break, or noon-tide song;
And hope still whispers, not in vain,
That I may be belov’d again.
Happy I should deem her life,
Whom Fortune destin’d for your wife,
Convinc’d you’d try your best to please.
And make her days roll on with ease;
She, in return, should take delight,
To please you both by day and night;
And always strive to make your home
A place from which you would not roam;
Of jealous thoughts herself divest,
Of all that happens make the best.
If such like maxims meet your mind,
In me a Valentine you’ll find.
Receive, dear youth, this pledge of love,
The gift accept, the deed approve,
And turn, and smile, and sweetly own,
That I am dear to thee alone.
Dear Valentine! enchanting day,
The best of months, the lover’s May,
You take possession of my soul,
And love reigns there without control.
I choose the swain whom I love best,
He’s far superior to the rest;
In every action ’tis his plan,
To be a brave and honest man;
No levity is ever seen,
He has a pleasing gentle mien;
Good humour dwells in every feature,
In short, he is a perfect creature.
Read this portrait, Sir, and find.
That you are thus in it design'd;
And happiness is truly mine,
If me you choose as Valentine.
W hen judgment and wit are combin’d
I n one tender and sensible mind,
L ove’s busy, at least so I find,
L ooking out to see whom he can snare.
I ’m caught—but I do not much care;
A s love is a lott’ry, I’ll e’en take a share,
M ay fortune then favour the brave and the fair.
Last year I thought to write to thee,
But then my courage fail’d,
And since that period I have been
By doubts and fears assail’d:
St. Valentine is come again,
And I will not neglect
To speak my sentiments to thee,
As one I much respect.
Pray trifle not, if you incline
Unto another Valentine;
But if your heart in me has pleasure,
I will retain it as a treasure.
Old custom tells us that we may
Write to our sweethearts on this day,
And without censure tell our mind;
And this it is makes me inclin’d
To tell you, that with love and truth,
I sigh for you my dearest youth;
Nor need I blush to own a flame,
Enwrapp’d in honour's sacred name;
Then unto this my name I sign,
And so remain your Valentine.
I love thee, dear youth! and can I do less,
As I love thee thus dearly, that love to confess
No, nor will I a faithful affection disown,
That claims but thy dear approbation alone.
I love! yes, I love most sincerely, ’tis true,
And all that affection is center’d in you;
Ah! say then, beloved, you'll love me again,
And I’ll strive to love more, if I strive but in vain.
I fear it may be deem’d a fault,
A lady should reveal a thought,
So unexpected and unsought,
Yet, why the truth disguise?
I dreamt last night—what is the sign?—
I dreamt that you were dress’d all fine,
And were indeed my Valentine—
Oh, what a strange surmise!
Yet, by the million ’tis suppos’d,
Dreams many secrets have disclos'd,
And therefore I am really pos'd
To know what is the sign:
I’ve therefore taken up the pen,
Although averse to write to men,
And beg you’ll answer—are you then
My destin’d Valentine?
Dear youth, I do accept your heart,
And value much the prize;
For tho’ you ne’er did tell your love,
I read it in your eyes.
I know, and much approve your worth,
And to your suit incline;
Then let us meet with love and truth
To hail sweet Valentine.
If against prudence I offend,
Let lovely Venus stand my friend,
And plead for me, and send her Son,
He is to blame for what I’ve done:
’Twas he who prompted my design,
To write to you, my Valentine,
And I on him must lay the blame,
’Twas he alone who rais’d the flame
That now does in my bosom burn,
To which I ask a kind return.
Make not the subject, sir, your jest,
But set my aching heart at rest.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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