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julie harris - letter to john l graves, late april 1856 lyrics

it is sunday + now+ john + and all have gone to church + the wagons have done passing, and i have come out in the new grass to listen to the anthems

three or four hens have followed me, and we sit side by side + and while they crow and whisper, i’ll tell you what i see today, and what i would that you saw +

you remember the crumbling wall that divides us from mr sweetser + and the crumbling elms and the evergreens + and other crumbling things + that spring, and fade, and cast their bloom within a simple twelvemonth + well + they arе here, and skies on mе fairer far than italy, in blue eye look down + up + see! + away + a league from here, on the way to heaven! and here are robins + just got home + and giddy crows + and jays + and will you trust me + as i live, here’s a bumblebees + not such as summer brings + john + earnest, manly bees, but a kind of a c+ckney, dressed in jaunty clothes. much is that gay + have i to show, if you were with me, john, upon this april grass + then there are sadder features + here and there, wings half gone to dust, that fluttered so, last year + a mouldering plume, an empty house, in which a bird resided. where last year’s flies, their errand ran, and last year’s crickets fell! we, too, are flying + fading, john + and the song “here lies,” soon upon lips that love us now + will have hummed and ended

to live, and die, and mount again in triumphant body, and next time, try the upper air + is no schoolboy’s theme!

it is a holly thought to think that we can be eternal + when air and earth are full of lives that are gone + and done + and a conceited thing indeed, this promised resurrection! congratulate me + john + lad + and “here’s a health to you” + that we have each a pair of lives, and need not chary be, of the one “that now is” +

thank you for your letter, john + glad i was, to get it + and gladder had i got them both, and glad indeed to see + if in your heart another lies, bound one day to me + mid your momentous cares, plasant to know that “lang syne” has it’s own place + that nook and cranny still retain their accustomed guest. and when busier cares, and dustier days, and cobwebs, less unfrequent + shut what was away, still, as a ballad hummed, and lost, remember early friend, and drop a tear, if a troubador that strain may chance to sing

i am glad you have a school to teach + and happy that it is pleasant + amused at the clerical civility + of your new friends + and shall feel + i know, delight and pride, always, when you succeed. i play the old, odd tunes yet, which used to flit about your head after honest hours + and wake dear sue, and madden me, with their grief and fun + how far from us, that spring seems + and those triumphant days + our april got to heaven first + grant we may meet her there + at the “right hand of the father.” remember, tho’ you rove + john + and those who do not ramble will remember you. susie’s, and mattie’s compliments, and vinnie’s just here, and write again if you will +

- julie harris lyrics

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