John Kander: A Letter from Sullivan Ballou

Soprano Angela Mitchell and pianist Brett Mitchell perform ‘A Letter from Sullivan Ballou’ (1999) by American composer John Kander (b. 1927). // SEE ↓ FOR MORE.

TEXT
Maj. Sullivan Ballou
Camp Clark, Washington
July 14, 1861

My very dear Sarah:
The indications are very strong
that we shall move in a few days — perhaps tomorrow.
Lest I should not be able to write again,
I feel impelled to write a few lines that may
fall upon your eye when I am no more.

I have no misgivings about or lack of confidence
in the cause in which I am engaged,
and my courage does not halt or falter.
I know how strongly American civilization
now leans on the triumph of the government
and how great a debt we owe
to those who went before us
through the blood and suffering of the revolution.
And I am willing, perfectly willing
to lay down all my joys in this life
to help maintain this government
and to pay that debt . . .

Sarah, my love for you is deathless.
It seems to bind me with mighty cables
that nothing but omnipotence could break;
and yet my love of country comes over me
like a strong wind and bears me unresistably on
with all these chains to the battlefield.
The mem'ries of the blissful moments
I have spent with you come creeping over me,
and I feel most gratified to God and to you
that I have enjoyed them so long.

And hard it is for me to give them up
and burn to ashes the hopes of future years when,
God willing,
we might still have lived and loved together,
and seen our sons grown up
to honorable manhood around us.

I have, I know, but a few and small claims
upon divine providence,
but something whispers to me,
perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar,
that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed.

If I do not, my dear Sarah,
never forget how much I love you,
and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield,
it will whisper your name.

Forgive my faults
and the many pains I have caused you.
How thoughtless and foolish I have oftentimes been!
How gladly would I wash out with my tears
ev'ry little spot upon your happiness . . .

But, oh, Sarah!
If the dead can come back to this earth
and flit unseen around those they loved,
I shall always be near you;
in the gladdest days and in the darkest nights,
always, always.
And if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek,
it shall be my breath,
as the cool air fans your throbbing temple,
it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah, do not mourn me dead;
think I am gone and wait for thee,
for we shall meet again...


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ANGELA MITCHELL
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BRETT MITCHELL
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