So cannot I;
Bright angels watch around her couch at night—
A Yank, with loaded gun, keeps me in sight.
A thousand weary miles do stretch between
My love and I;
To her, this wintry night, cool, calm, serene,
I waft a sigh;
And hope with all my earnestness of soul,
Tomorrow’s mail may bring me my parole!
There’s hope ahead! We’ll one day meet again—