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<p>My own dear girl</p> | <p>My own dear girl</p> | ||
<p> once more and again, in the</p> | <p> once more and again, in the</p> | ||
| − | <p>silent | + | <p>silent hour of midnight, while thinking of you and</p> |
<p>home, I take my pen and imagin that I am talking</p> | <p>home, I take my pen and imagin that I am talking</p> | ||
| − | <p>to you as in days of | + | <p>to you as in days of yore. when loves young dream was bright</p> |
<p>and the dew as yet glistening, on the flowers of our hopes</p> | <p>and the dew as yet glistening, on the flowers of our hopes</p> | ||
| − | <p>hopes and | + | <p>hopes and antisapetions that as yet have been but partcalry</p> |
<p>realised. but let us hope that the future has yet in store</p> | <p>realised. but let us hope that the future has yet in store</p> | ||
| − | <p>many a happy | + | <p>many a happy houre for us. You say my letters are</p> |
<p>cold and business like, and no doubt as a general thing</p> | <p>cold and business like, and no doubt as a general thing</p> | ||
<p>they are. but not from want of love to you dearset, but</p> | <p>they are. but not from want of love to you dearset, but</p> | ||
| − | <p> | + | <p>circumstances and time will not allow me to write</p> |
| − | <p>as often or as I would like to. but to night</p></html> | + | <p>as often or as I would like to. but to night when all</p> |
| + | <p>is still, so still that I can almost here the Stares twinckle</p> | ||
| + | <p>and the Moon with its calm cold fase looks mildely</p> | ||
| + | <p>down, just showing itselfe in my window, and I think</p> | ||
| + | <p>that the same moon, the same Stars, are also shining</p> | ||
| + | <p>over you, and that the same North wind, which I hear</p> | ||
| + | <p>sighing through the old and Stately Elems which</p> | ||
| + | <p>surround our quarters. May have faned the cheek</p></html> | ||
Latest revision as of 18:55, 29 June 2021
<html>Nashville
Dec 22d 1864
My own dear girl
once more and again, in the
silent hour of midnight, while thinking of you and
home, I take my pen and imagin that I am talking
to you as in days of yore. when loves young dream was bright
and the dew as yet glistening, on the flowers of our hopes
hopes and antisapetions that as yet have been but partcalry
realised. but let us hope that the future has yet in store
many a happy houre for us. You say my letters are
cold and business like, and no doubt as a general thing
they are. but not from want of love to you dearset, but
circumstances and time will not allow me to write
as often or as I would like to. but to night when all
is still, so still that I can almost here the Stares twinckle
and the Moon with its calm cold fase looks mildely
down, just showing itselfe in my window, and I think
that the same moon, the same Stars, are also shining
over you, and that the same North wind, which I hear
sighing through the old and Stately Elems which
surround our quarters. May have faned the cheek
</html>