22nd January 2023

I have composed a poem in HER honour. It is called The Youthful Heart that Aches.

The Youthful Heart that Aches.

Hush!
   Do not speak of Love!
For thy soft sweet name
   Exquisite dress and demeanour,
Are too fine, Selena,
   For mere “Love”.

Hush!
   Do not speak of Love!
The perfume of roses,
   The taste of molasses,
No man that passes by,
   Selena Hathersage,
Can ever gauge
   Her sweetness.

Hulloa!
   Is there no hope – ah! –
For a bursting bosom,
   Full of passion,
No nook, nor nest, nor bower,
   In which a tremulating heart
Might cower, like a turtle dove?
   Or a small deer.
No.

There is only,
A youthful heart that aches.

C.H. Dickens, Esq.

I expect the metre is not, as yet, quite correct – but the sentiment is fine and true.

I shall give her my poem!

I shall not.

Half past 8 o’clock p.m.

I shall.

No.

9 o’clock p.m.

LOVE is agony.