TO ———.[1]
Oh, believe not the tale that is whispered to thee, By those who would link with deception my name;Through darkness and trial my soul is still free, My heart, thought, and impulses still are the same.
Untrue to my country! oh, never, no never! Can fate cast a shadow o' er the love that o'erflowsAnd burns for the South in my bosom forever As pure as the dew-drop that kisses the rose.
Though the old flag of Union now floats overhead; Though I bow to the stroke that I could not forego,
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- ↑ These lines were addressed to a friend in reply to a letter, in which he stated that a rumor obtained to the effect, that the author was participating in scenes of festivity and mirth, accompanied by Federal officers.
