Unknown Letter #10
Dublin Core
Title
Unknown Letter #10
Subject
Allie's friend
Allie
Description
From Allie's friend to Allie
Creator
A friend of Allie
Source
Jerome Peirce Collection, National Park Service
Publisher
HIST 428 (Spring 2020), University of Mary Washington
Date
Unknown
Contributor
NPS, Civil War Study Group, Josef Rokus (Transcriber)
Rights
\For educational purposes with no commercial use. Courtesy of National Park Service, Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania NMP, FRSP 16095-16102 (FRSP-00904).
Language
English
Type
Text
Identifier
Unknown Letter #10
Coverage
Unknown
Text Item Type Metadata
Text
Entered into Rest
O. my friend. O my dearly beloved!
Do you feel, do you know,
How the times and the seasons are going;
Are they weary and slow.
Does it seem to you long, in the heavens,
My true, tender mate.
Since here we were living together,
Where dying I wait.
‘Tis three years, so we count by the spring time
By the birth of the flowers.
What are years, Aye! eternities even,
To love such as ours?
Side by side are we still, though a shadow
Between us doth fall;
We are parted, and yet are not parted,
Not wholly, and all.
For still you are round and about me,
Almost in my reach,
Tho I miss the old pleasant communion
Of smile and of speech.
And I long to hear what you are seeing,
And what you have done,
Since the earth faded out from your vision,
And the heavens begun;
Since you dropped off the darkening fillet
Of clay from your sight,
And opened your eyes upon glory
Ineffably bright!
Tho little my life has accomplished,
My poor hands have wrought;
I have lived what has seemed to be ages
In feeling and thought.
Since the time when our path grew so narrow,
So near the unknown,
That I turned back from following after,
And you went on alone.
Sent me by a dear friend who now rests from long years of suffering and harm, in the other Happy Home where there is no pain.
A. J. P. [Albinia J. Peirce]
O. my friend. O my dearly beloved!
Do you feel, do you know,
How the times and the seasons are going;
Are they weary and slow.
Does it seem to you long, in the heavens,
My true, tender mate.
Since here we were living together,
Where dying I wait.
‘Tis three years, so we count by the spring time
By the birth of the flowers.
What are years, Aye! eternities even,
To love such as ours?
Side by side are we still, though a shadow
Between us doth fall;
We are parted, and yet are not parted,
Not wholly, and all.
For still you are round and about me,
Almost in my reach,
Tho I miss the old pleasant communion
Of smile and of speech.
And I long to hear what you are seeing,
And what you have done,
Since the earth faded out from your vision,
And the heavens begun;
Since you dropped off the darkening fillet
Of clay from your sight,
And opened your eyes upon glory
Ineffably bright!
Tho little my life has accomplished,
My poor hands have wrought;
I have lived what has seemed to be ages
In feeling and thought.
Since the time when our path grew so narrow,
So near the unknown,
That I turned back from following after,
And you went on alone.
Sent me by a dear friend who now rests from long years of suffering and harm, in the other Happy Home where there is no pain.
A. J. P. [Albinia J. Peirce]
Original Format
Letter/Paper
Files
Collection
Reference
A friend of Allie Unknown, Unknown Letter #10, HIST 428 (Spring 2020), University of Mary Washington
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