This breaks my heart, but I love it so much--and really in significant part for exactly that reason. In the text at the bottom, its maker misspelled "thee" as "the", but I've figured out it reads: I can not give the(e) up, with all thy faults I love the(e) still." And on the reverse: "No one to love." And then this poor fellow, flowers in hand, standing at the doorstep of the one he loves, who does not seem especially eager to open the door and let him in. I really love the expression on his face, and that little handful of flowers that surely he picked himself, and also the fact that the one he loves looks quite androgynous--in my mind perhaps adding another layer to the "I can not give thee up." 

8" x 5" black ink on faintly lined paper. In very good condition, with two old horizontal fold lines. Late 19th/very early 20th century I believe.