The lines of this poem were written in the back of Laura’s
journal for 1965. They are not in her handwriting and they are unsigned.
Lines written while in Winterquarters in Orang County,
Virginia during the winter of 1836 and 64.
The Bachelors
Soliloquy
I was a youth with tallents rare and loveliness combined,
Wisdom and prudence did appear to decorate my mind,
In person, I was tall and straight,
With muscles full and round,
Nor in my features, form or gait,
Could any fault be found.
My mind was well developed too,
And grasped a plenteous store,
Of rare selections fresh and now,
From out of ancient lore.
I then was cheerful, blythe and gay,
Admired by all around,
And some would even dare to say,
Your match is rarely found.
The ladies, bless their souls, would try,
My affections well to gain,
But in their ears I’d loudly cry,
Your efforts are in vain.
Full many a chance I had to wed,
In a high reputed clan,
But then, defiantly, I said,
I’m not a marrying man.
On life’s calm waves I launched my luck,
And joyously set sail,
Nor thought that tempests fierce and dark,
Against me could prevail,
With vessel new and tacking strong,
I heedlessly did ride,
Basking mid the merry throng,
And loving in the tide,
Unconscious of the course I took,
And of the speed I made,
I hastened to my “log book”,
And here is what it said:
Meridian’s past full three degrees,
Where life begins to wane,
And still I’m waftin on the breeze,
To you oblivion plain.
My work is light, the waters deep,
And I am far at sea,
What must I do? I need not weep,
That would not set me free,
Alas, my boat has sprung a leak,
And not I am a wreck,
Upon an island cold and bleak,
In a magnitude a speck,
This island is a dreary mess,
Or rocks and cliffs so high,
That repels which around it passes,
Its scenery can’t descry.
Oblivion bounds its northern time,
Remorse surrounds the west,
While discontent the south confirms,
And misery holds the rest.
Tis here the bachelor makes his home,
And builds his doleful cell,
And how from here he now can roam,
No moral tongue can tell.
Here by a treacherous gale I’m borne,
To bachelors lone retreat,
Oh! ‘tis so dreary and forlorn,
Deprived of every sweet.
Oh, could I but appease the fate ,
That bound me to this spot,
I soon from here would emigrate,
And change my lonely lot.
I’m told that some can rescue find,
And happy reach the land,
If a kind ladey feels inclined ,
To offer them her hand.
How many ladies young and fair,
I once distained to woo,
But now, alas, is his my prayer,
Just any, Lord, will do.
Part Second
Kind sir, tis very strange to me,
That you’d employ the press,
To answer a soliloquy,
From whom you cannot grasp.
You did with excellent taste display,
Productions rich and rare,
And with your wit and poetry,
Did well our lots compare
You said that I in sadness dwell,
Mid fountains, fruits, and flowers,
Where twittering birds their echoes swell,
Among the leafy bowers.
That you I kindly did invite,
These luxuries to share,
And that our destinies we unite,
And reign supremely here.
Any you, my plan, did all defeat,
And scornfully did sneer,
While to your barren, cold retreat,
You hastily did steer.
You may try to be indifferent,
And seemingly rejoice,
And say that you are a bachelor,
Because it is your choice.
But all such doctrine will explain,
That trust you soon must know,
That marriage is the only road,
To happiness below.
Just like the hungry fox, you strove,
With all your might and power,
And when you did a failure prove,
Exclaimed, “The grapes are sour.”
Pray let met whisper in your ear,
What many a bachelor knows,
That while at us old maids you jeer,
You multiply your woes.
