The Dallas weekly herald. [volume] (Dallas, Tex.) 1873-1885, 1874-05-09

In reply the request Of a correspon
dent In Sundays HERALD, Miss Marior
4. Brown sends VI the poem alluded
to. The poem was published In oul
columns on the 18th Of April last. W.
reproduce them rs desired:
A southern prisoner Of war at CamT
Chase, In Ohio, after pining Of sick
ness in the hospital of that station fol
some time, and coniiding 10 his friend
and fellow captive, Colonel w. y
Hawkins, OF Tennessee, that he was
heavy of heart, because his aflianced
bride in Nashville did not write to
him, died just before the arrival OF a
letter In which the lady curtly broke
the engagement. Colonel Hawkins
had been requested 10y his dying com.
rade to open any epistle which should
come for him thereafter, and, upon
reading the letter in question, penned
the following versifie0 answer. The
lines were imperfectly given by the
southern press just after the war, ana
deserved revival. If only for the sake
of the corrections requisite to do justice
to their sentiment and win for them u
wider appreciation:
Your letter, lady, came too late,
For Heaven had claimed its own;
Ah, sudden change from prison-bars
Unto the great white throne!
And yet think he would have stayed,
To live for his disduin,
Could he have read the carless words
Which you have sent In vain.
So full OF patience did he walt,
Through many weary hour,
That DER his simple soldtr faith
Not even death had power;
And you-did others WHISPER low
Their homage In your ear;
AS though amongst their shallow throng,
His spirithad peer? r5
would that you were hy menow,
'f2 To draw the sheet asi..- '.fct'
And see how pure the look he wore
The moment when lie died.
The sorrow that You gave to him
Had left its weary trace.
As 'twere the shadow Of the Cross
Upon his pallid face.
"Her love, ,"he said, "could change for me
The winters cold to spring."
All, trust of tickle maiden's love
Thou art bitter thing
For when the e valleys, bright in May,
3.f Once more with blossoms wave, lil
The northern violets shall blow iA.a
Above his humble grave.
Your dole of scanty words had been
But one more pang to bear,
For him who kissed unto the last
g.. Your tress CT golden hair,
did not put 1t wnere he said,
For, when the angels come,
would not have them find the sign
Of falsehoOd In the tomb.
I've read your letter, and know
The wiles that yon had wrought
To win the noble neart of his,
A r,sl,.a aY...xI trnIf Ia Y
What lavish wealth men sometimes give
For what is worthless all;
What manly bosoms beat for truth
In folly's falsest thrall fF ..i
You shall not pity him, for now
His sorrow has an end,
Yet would that you could stand with me
Beside my fallen friend;
And forgive you for his sake,
As he-if II be given -
May cen be pleading grace to you
Before the court of Heaven.
Tonight the cold winds whistle by
AS my vigil keep ,q..l
Within the prison house, where
Few mourners come to weep:
rude plank coffin holds his form;
N4i Yet death exaIts his face,
And would rather see him thus
Than clasped In your embrace.
Tonight your home may shine with lights
And ring with merry song, ..f-FH
And you be smiling, as your soul
Had done no deadly wrong;
Your hand SO fair that none would think
1t penned these words of pain;
Your skin so white would God your heart
Were half as free from stain.
- I'd rather be my comrade dead fsa
au Than you In life supreme; l.
For yours the sinners waking dead,
And his the martyrs dream.
Whom serve we in this life, we serve
? In that which is TO come;
He chose his way; you yours let God
Pronounce the fitting doom.