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Robert E. Lee Portrait
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to Act of
Court for the
Southern District of New
adown the garden-walk To bid my love good-by,
And as I passed the roses' stalk
What should my eyes espy
Bnt, nestled like a brooding dove In some sequestered spot,
The very thing I told my love—
I stooped and plucked the little flower.
He said, "What do you seek?" I answered, In the twilight hour
love, for me speak!"
it softly in his vest,
His arms were round me furled -
And as I leaned upon his breast, He Said I was "his world!"
His sword was girt upon his thigh,
His plume waved in the breeze ; And all the twilight seemed to sigh
Among the garden trees !
I looked into his eyes and felt As happy maidens feel,
When first two loving spirits melt In one for woe or weal.
He drew me closer to his heart, My hand was on his breast;
He said, "My love ! though now we part, This heart can never rest
Until I bring you back your flower,
And claim, where we now stand,
In some sweet, future twilight hour,
This darling little hand!
These were the words I heard 1dm
The last I ever heard !
I saw him slowly ride away
While not a step I stirred.
I could not move—I saw him turn
And kiss his hand to me.
Ah! how my spirit
For what would never be.
This little casket that I wear
The rest can better tell -
A withered flower, a lock of hair,
A bloodstained word, "Farewell !" They buried him upon the field,
Upon the battle-plain;
And life to me can never yield A comfort to my pain
I often, at the twilight hour,
Steal down the garden-walk,
Where once I plucked the little flower
Beneath the roses' stalk;
And when I reach the wicker-gate,
And no one else is nigh,
I almost think I see him wait, As then, to say "Good-by."
And sometimes, when the shadows creep Along the,
I hear a voice which makes me
of the darkness call.
It seems to say—as still I stand
Upon the same old spot - "I'm waiting for that little hand - My dear,
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