For Tirzah Ann,

I was a meloncholly man.

I’m wastin’ slow, my last year’s vests

Hang loose on me; my nightly rests

Are thin as gauze, and thoughts of you,

Gashes ’em wildly through and through,

Oh Tirzah Ann,

I am a meloncholly man.

My heart is in such a burning state,

I feel it soon must conflagrate;