Dear Lizzie,

I seat myself, with pen in hand,

   In order for to write

A line or two, to one (I own,)

   In whom I do delight.

  But, sooner far, I’d let my pen

   Beside the inkstand lay;

If thou couldst listen for a while,

   To what I wish to say.

But distance says, and sternly too,

   Young man, it can’t be so;

Though oft ‘tis wished by Young and Old,

    I cannot shorter grow.

Contented then, and thankful too,

    That all is not denied,

Whereby I can converse with thee –

    My pen must now be ply’d. –

Dear Lizzie, mem’ry still doth cling

    Around thy image fair;

Where’er I go, where’er I stay,

    I plainly see it there.   

The eve we stray’d beside Pequea,

  Is still to mem’ry dear;

And oft as eve returns methinks,

  Thy gentle voice I hear.

But when from reveries I wake,

  And I the truth must own;

I am but honest when I say,

  Without thee Home’s not Home.

The feather’d songsters idly chant

  For me, their notes of praise;

Thou art not here, with me to hear,

  And listen to their lays.

I fondly hope that, I may see

  Thy sweet and modest face,

And hear thy voice so dear to me

   Within this humble place!

My lame address I now must close, –

  Yet, I would truly say

That, I would gladly hear a word

  From Lizzie of Pequea.

And when you write direct it thus –

  Letzler’s Store P. O.

County’s Chester, as for the rest,

You very well do know.

And now John Ellis freely gives,

  Of his wishes for the best;

And ever shall continue, to

  Miss Sarah E. Worrest.

Lines to Pequea Creek

Flow on thou lovely little stream,

    Till time shall be no more;

From thy pure scource, to Ocean’s bed,

  Thy crystal waters pour.

Thou art a sweet and lovely stream,

  I love thee passing well;

I love to tread thy mossy banks –

  But why, I should not tell.

Yet, by thy side I love to stray,

  In twilight’s blissful hour;

If aught I know, ‘twas there I felt

  Sly Cupid’s matchless power.

Shall I forget the eve I stray’d,

  With Lizzie by thy side;

And talk’d of future happiness,

  As onward we did glide?

No! sooner shall thy waters cease,

  Their onward course to move,

Than I’d forget the moments spent,

  With the sweet maid I love.   

Ah! this is why, I love thee so,

  Thou laughing little stream;

And this is why, in truth I vow,

  That I so happy seem.

Yea! by thy side I love to stray,

  And mark each crook and turn;

To see thee wash thy pebbly bed,

  With joy my heart doth burn!

Oh! that I lived upon thy banks,

  And daily could behold

Thee sweetly pass my Cottage by –

  Such joy hath ne’er been told!

I then would ever happy be,

  If I could Lizzie claim

As “better half”, – in weal or wo

  My lot I’d ne’er complain.

But oft as eve’ning dews would fall,

  I’d bless that happy day,

When by thy waters first I stray’d,

  With Lizzie of Pequea.

                                                        John

              I have no doubt you will have a silent laugh to yourself after reading my Poetry; however, one thing I ask of you, that is, do not examine it too closely, and pardon all errors, and childish speeches; for it was composed in haste.

The day we left the Valley, we found pretty warm travelling, but we got along very well, we stopped at the “Half-way House” and rested awhile and then proceeded on our journey – Arrived at home about half past six o’clock –

I have been hard at work since I visited the Valley last, the second day after we came home, I went into the grass with scythe in hand, and was at that, and harvesting from then untill last Wednesday, when we made a finish and glad I was too, for I felt like taking a rest, and a rest I have taken –

              I would like to know when we may expect our distinguished Visitors, when you write, (as I expect a few lines from you) if you have any knowledge of it, give me a hint if you please – We are getting a glorious rain this afternoon; but rather unfavourable for a “Pic Nic” that was to pass off to day, near Phoenixville –

              Twilight is coming on – I must close, but if I knew what would be interesting to Lizzie, I would continue to write on, and not tire, but enough –

Pardon all errors, and bad writing, my hand is now not unlike a Farmer’s –   Write soon –

My address I gave in Poetical Style, but perhaps I had better transpose it                                                                                                                                    East Coventry,

                                                                                                                  Chester Coy,

                                                                                    Letzler’s Store P.O.     Penn

                                                                                                  Yours Affectionately

                                                                                                                John Ellis

Miss Sarah E. Worrest