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Sullivan Ballou,
July of 1861,
Wrote to his wife
And seven odd days later
He lost his life
In the First Battle of Bull Run.
And the letter read….

When the breeze
Brushes against your cheek,
Heaven is sending you
My breath.
Oh, my Sarah, dear,
Do not mourn me dead.
Think I am gone and wait for me,
For we shall meet again.

My love for you is deathless.
Unlike the flesh of men,
So if my love of country
Leaves me breathless
And I cannot write you, my love, again,
Remember….

When the breeze
Brushes against your cheek,
Heaven is sending you
My breath.
Oh, my Sarah, dear,
Do not mourn me dead.
Think I am gone and wait for me,
For we shall meet again.

And our future lies
In ashes.
And Sarah, you must rise
From ashes.

When the breeze
Brushes against your cheek,
Heaven is sending you
My breath.

When the breeze
Brushes against your cheek,
Heaven is sending you
My breath.

Oh, my Sarah....
Wait for me, for we shall meet again.

Sullivan....

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