Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1895-12-08
The Letter That Found Him Dead.

(RepubiShed by ReQuestD
The following lines. with the accompa-
nylng introduction, first appeared during
the late war:
During his confinement as a prisoner
OF war at Camp Chase, o., a fellow
prisoner. who had been fatally wounded.
was asked by Colonel Hawkins why he
seemed so down-hearted. He replied that
he was grieved at not hearing from his
affianced bride. When he SAW be must
die he requested Colonel Hawkins 10
open and answer any letter that might
come for him. He also requested that a
lock of her hair. which he had, be buried
with him Soon after his death a letter
was received from the young lady. In
which she curly broke off the engage
ment. After reading 1t, Colonel Hawkins
replied in the following beautiful lines:
Your letter came, but came too late.
For Heaven had claimed its own;
All sudden change from prison bare
Unto the Great White Throne;
And yet think he would have stayed
For one more day of pain,
Could he have read those tardy words
Which you have sent in vain.
Why did you wait, fair lady,
Through so many a weary hour?
Had you other lovers with you
In that silken, dainty bower?
Did others bow before your charms.
And Irvine bright garlands there?
And yet / ween in all that throng
His spirit had no peer.
1 wish that you were with me now.
As draw the sheet aside.
To see how pure the look he wore
A while before ae died.
Yet the sorrow that you gave him
Still had left It's weary trace.
And a meek and sanity sadness
Dwels upon his paliid face.
Her love" he said. could change for
me
The winters cold to spring"
All, trust to thoughtless maiden's love.
Thou art bitter thingl
For when these valleys fair, in May
once more with boom shall wave,
The northern violet shall blow
Above his humble grave.
Your dole Of scanty words had been
But one more pang to bear.
Though to the last he kissed with love
This tress of your soft hair.
z did not put it where he said,
For when the angels come
WOlll moi nave lncDl llilu inc SiEu
OF falsehood In the tomb.
4 re read the iatter, and l know
The wiles that you have wrought
To win that noble heart of his,
And gained it-fearful thought
What lavish wealth men sometimes give
For a trife light and small;
What manly forms are often held
In folly's fiimsy thrall.
You shall not pity him, for now
He's past your hope and fear,
Although | wish that you could stand
with me beside his bier.
STILL forgive you; Heavers knows
For mercy you'll have need.
Since God His awful judgments send
On each unworthy deed.
Tonight the cold winds whistle by
As | my vigil keep
Within the prison dead-house, where
Few mourners come TO weep.
A rude plank coffin holds him now.
Yet death gives always grace,
And I would rather see him thus
Than clasped In your embrace.
Tonight your rooms are very gay
With wit, and wine, and song;
And you are smiling just as IL
You never did a wrong.
Your hand so fair that none would think
1t penned these words of pain;
Your skin so white-would God your soul
Were half so free OF stain.
I'd rather be this dear. dear friend,
Than you In all your glee,
For you are he'd In grievous bonds,
While he's forever free.
Whom we serve in this life, we serve
In that which is 10 come
He chose his way; you yours. Let God
Pronounce the fitting doom.