Lorena

This is another song favored by J.E.B. Stuart, and by most of the soldiers of the war, especially in the South. This is the common story of Reverend Webster's early love, who would not marry him as she had her sights set on a higher position than a preacher's wife. The song sets a melancholy tone, a longing that sets so naturally with the soldier away from loved ones for months or years at a stretch..

Lorena
(Words, Reverend H.D. Webster, music by J.P. Webster.
Pub. 1857, Higgens Bros., Chicago.)

The years creep slowly by, Lorena,
The snow is on the grass again;
The sun's low down the sky Lorena,
The frost gleams where the flowers have been;
But the heart throbs on as warmly now,
As when the summer days were nigh;
Oh, the sun can never dip so low,
Adown affection's cloudless sky.

A hundred months have passed, Lorena,
Since last I held that hand in mine,
And felt that pulse beat fast, Lorena,
Though mine beat faster far than thine;
A hundred months -- 'twas flow'ry May,
When up the hilly slopes we climbed,
To watch the dying of the day,
And hear the distant church bells chimed.

We loved each other then, Lorena,
More than we ever dared to tell,
And what we might have been, Lorena,
Had but our loving prospered well --
But then, 'tis past, the years are gone,
I'll not call up their shadowy forms;
I'll say to them, "Lost years, sleep on,
Sleep on, nor heed life's pelting storm."

The story of that past Lorena,
Alas, I care not to repeat
The hopes that could not last, Lorena,
They lived, but only lived to cheat
I would not cause e'en one regret
To rankle in your bosom now
For "If we try we may forget"
Were words of thine long years ago

Yes these were words of thine Lorena
They burn within my memory yet
They touched some tender chords Lorena
Which thrill and tremble with regret
'Twas not thy woman's heart that spoke
Thy heart was always true to me
A duty, stern and pressing broke
The tie which linked my soul with thee

It matters little now, Lorena,
The past -- is in eternal past,
Our heads will soon lie down, Lorena,
Life's tide is ebbing out so fast;
There is a future --O, thank God --
Of life this is so small a part,
'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod,
But there, up there, 'tis heart to heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Click here to download the MID file.