“Lorena,” and How It Came to Be Written
By Susie Gentry
Few songs in the world’s history ever had the hold on men’s hearts that “Lorena” did during the war, and for more than a decade after.
Even now it has the power to make misty the eye and soften the heart—particularly if sung by “The Southern Girl” of the war time period. It is one of my earliest recollections, as sung by my mother to our little, three-cornered family—she, my father and myself. Father had sent it to her “enduring of the War.”
I suppose almost every soldier of the war, Confederate or Federal, who had any sentiment sent his sweetheart a copy of this famous song.
How full of pathos are the several verses:
“The years creep slowly by, Lorena;
The snow is on the grass again,
The sun’s low down the sky, Lorena,
The frost is 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 thy hand in mine,
And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena,
Though mine beat faster far than thine;
A hundred months—’twas flowery May,
When up that hilly slope 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 cared to tell;
And what we might have been, Lorena,
Had our lovings prospered well.
But then ’tis passed; 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 storms.
The story of the 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 chord, Lorena,
That thrills and trembles 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 that linked my soul to thee.
It matters little now, Lorena,
The past is in the eternal past;
Our heads will soon lie low, Lorena,
Life’s tide is ebbing out so fast.
There is a future! Oh, 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.’”
These words were written by Rev. H. D. L. Webster, born in Stamford, Conn., August 29, 1824; was educated in Columbus, Ohio, and preached at Zanesville, Ohio for some years, leaving there in 1848. The music was composed by J. P. Webster, but no relation.
Ohio claims the writer and the song, but it is known and regarded as a Southern song, having been so extensively sung below Mason and Dixon’s line.
“Lorena” was Miss Ella Blocksom, of Zanesville, Ohio. She was a member of Mr. Webster’s church—the Universalist—also a leading member of the choir, with a beautiful and highly cultivated voice. She was as lovely in face and person as her voice was sweet and touching; and it was but natural that the fine-looking, intelligent young divine should be attracted to that face that was each Sunday opposite him and listened so interestedly to his preaching.
One describes her as “nineteen,” short in stature and petite, with blue eyes and light brown hair and features that took hold upon “the poetry of heaven.”
She was the sister-in-law of one of the “pillars of the church,” a successful manufacturer, and of course the preacher found he often must consult this brother about ecclesiastical matters and see his pretty, charming sister-in-law.
What real love affair ever ran smoothly? This one did not, for Lorena’s sister had better “game” for her to bring down than a poor, though handsome, intellectual preacher; so, like many another worldly-wise elder sister, she, after repeated efforts, made “Lorena” see that she and “Paul Vane,” as Mr. Webster called himself in one of his songs, must part.
On a certain cloudless Sabbath in May these two lovers walked after the morning service, to Hamline Hill and lingered until twilight was closing her wind in the west, and “Lorena” told “Paul Vane” farewell.
The next day she wrote him a letter, in which she said, “if we try, we may forget,” and he knew “’twas not thy woman’s heart that spoke,” but her sister’s through her.
Finding that this world was a blank world to him without “Lorena’s” loving look and smile, he resigned his charge, where, as a minister, he had been so successful and, as a lover, such a failure, and left for parts unknown.
Time went by and he was heard of in the West. He developed the “poetic fire,” and, in 1860, his song “Lorena,” appeared—one hundred months after his farewell to Ella Blocksom.
The song was almost famous before she realized it was a tribute to her from her old and loyal lover. She is accused of having no sentiment, or of being a “namby-pamby,” as she never wrote him one line of thanks for the song, or for his constancy to her, as he had a right to expect. Three years later, he wrote “Paul Vane”—the answer one would think a “Lorena” would have made:
“The years are creeping slowly by, dear Paul,
The winters come and go;
The wind sweeps past with mournful cry, dear Paul,
And pelt my face with snow.
But there’s no snow upon the heart, dear Paul.
’Tis summer always there;
Those early loves throw sunshine over all,
And sweeten memories dear.
I’ve kept you ever in my heart, dear Paul.
Through years of good and ill;
Our souls could not be torn apart, dear Paul,
They’re bound together still.
I never knew how dear you were to me
’Til’ I was left alone;
I thought my poor, poor heart would break the day
They told me you were gone.”
“Lorena” married a young lawyer of Ironton, Ohio, who later on became a Supreme Judge. He died, full of honors, March 2, 1887.
“In the city of Zanesville, surrounded by the scenes of her girlhood days, still lives Lorena in her widowed age. The hill she climbed in that flowery May of long ago is now hidden from sight by the intrusive growth of the flourishing city. She alone remains of her little family.” Her sun is slowly declining toward the horizon and she will soon meet her two lovers, “Paul Vane” and her husband.
The Muskingum, turbid and historic, flows on as in the days when “Lorena” and her lover “when up that hilly slope.” Through the changing panorama of its banks a steamer comes and goes, often filled with merry-makers, laughter and song, and this vessel wears proudly a name ever linked with the River—“Lorena.”
Rev. H. D. L. Webster married February 14, 1850, Sarah L. Wilmot. They had two children, both of whom are living. After the death of his first wife, he married at Racine, Wis., December 31, 1867, Mary M. Skinner. The two children of this union are still living.
Mr. Webster commenced preaching when twenty-two years of age and was greatly beloved, as he was devoted to his work. He organized the first Universalist society, at Tarpon Springs, Fla., and preached there without pay until his health began to fail. He died in Chicago, November 4, 1896.
I am indebted to my friend, Capt. Nelson W. Evans, of Portsmouth, Ohio, for the data of this story, he being a personal friend of “Lorena” and her husband—was a pall-bearer at the Judge’s funeral.
Franklin, Tenn.