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