A fine day. Yesterday was Liv’ s birthday and today is Zac’s. Poor children, how are they celebrating those days? Separation and imprisonment are theirs. Sadness, grief and sorrow, ours.
We mourn the living not the dead
We weep not for the early fled
Should we wish those bring back
Who have crossed life’s stormy track?
We would not have them on time share,
Mid the din of cannons roar.1
Nan and Rose returned from school about 12. Mr. Garrett sent the children word that he was sick. – – Planted potatoes, onions today, 2 or 3 hundred hills, not more. – – Bill left after breakfast to take up deserters and conscripts. I sent Washington on Shakespeare to see Mr. Ware about the chimney. He says he doesn’t know when he will be able to come. – – Sent a note to Ju requesting him to bring Bake down if he goes to Richmond this week. He was not at home. – – Mr. Anderson, an old acquaintance of Bill’s, formerly of Baltimore, came this morning and remained all night.2 I liked him very much. He is a good looking man. I don’t know when Bill will be back. – – Mag sent me a very nice roasting piece of beef, quite a treat.
- The Littlepages subscribed newspapers and to religious and secular magazines. They were fond of copying or cutting out poems. I have looked for these lines in a few issues of the short-lived Southern Illustrated News and The Southern Literary Messenger of the war years. But I have been unable to find the source of this short poem. Suggestions welcomed. It is interesting to note that in the Journal the text of the verse was written as presented here, justified right with a large block of unused space to the left. Perhaps something was to have been pasted in that space. Perhaps not. (back)
- Mr. Anderson remain unidentified. (back)