March 12, 1865 pg 5

like talking to you in my
dreams -- as I often do.

I send you "the long
long weary day" as I
promised you I would.
I hope you will think
of me when you sing
"But hope he he'd come once more
And love me as before" -- and
yet in view of the fact
that the song is a wail
over a dear one dead and
gone, I may be excused
from the charge of undue
selfishness if I express the
hope that you may not
have occasion for a good
long time to come to weep
over my demise when from
your "window's height" you
"look out on the night."