This poem was written by Lieutenant Seth Wallace Cobb (1838-1909) of Jerusalem, Virginia, who fought in Company A of the 18th Virginia Heavy Artillery Battalion. He mailed this poem to his sweetheart Victoria A.M. (Davidson) Farrar (1848-1900) in October of 1863. I hope they were together for Christmas.
I am thinking of thee in this twilight hour
And I’m lonely weary and sad,
For the day is done and the night has come
And there’s nothing to make me glad.
I am thinking of thee and I almost start
And fancy that though are near
But a sigh will rise to my anguished heart,
Like an echo of wild despair.
I am thinking of thee as I sit here alone,
And ponder on days that’s past
And they’ve flown away – like a summer day
Too bright and too happy to last.
I am thinking of thee and I long to sit
By thy couch of sickness and pain
And smooth thy pillow, and press thy hand
And make thee well again.
I am thinking of thee – Oh! Would I could share
Thy every ill on earth
And love thee so fondly that sorrow and care
Should fly at their earliest birth.
I am thinking of thee, canst thou doubt [illegible]
Or wonder that I am sad,
For thou art my all, and the tears will fall
For there’s nothing to make me glad.
I am thinking of thee and I long to press
Thy fevered hand in mine
And ask thee if love more true and warm
Has ever been known than mine.
Source: The Virginia Museum of History & Culture