Friday, June 20, 2008

A Student's Love Letter


The apiarist, as well we know,
Will always like the B's.
The sailor never will outgrow
His ardent love for C's.

The millionaire, with pockets full,
His E's will ever prize.
Coquettish maidens find a joy
In always making I's.

Surveyors, bound close by a chain,
Must in the L believe,
While preachers look in for the N,
When one must sing or grieve.

Collectors take care of the O's,
And farmers of the P's.
The actors follow up the Q's,
And ladies love the T's.

Professors, men of letters grand,
To all the Y's are true,
And I, why don't you know, sweetheart,
That I'm dead stuck on you?

— Atlanta Journal.

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