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Not band performances here; rather compositions.
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #126
Peak in subgenre #52
Author
M. G. Jacobs, based on Civil War music.
Rights
Aug 2010
Uploaded
September 18, 2010
Track Files
MP3
MP3 8.4 MB • 128 kbps • 9:13
Story behind the song
The part begins with a fragment of "Kathleen Mavourneen," written earlier but popular during the war years. This fragment, though orchestral here, contains the words:
It may be for years, and it may be forever,
Then why art thou silent, thou voice of my heart?
It may be for years and it may be forever,
Then why art thou silent, Kathleen, mavourneen?
The melody for "And the final song and the sweetest one is the song of the girls at home," from Work's "The Girls at home" (see Section V) introduces "Lorena."
This song was well known by soldiers on both sides, and carries a degree of sadness that is difficult to explain. Perhaps it is ambiguous enough that though the feeling it leaves is sadness, the feeling might have as many causes as there are listeners. The song was banned by both the Northern and Southern commands because of the effect it had on the troops after hearing or singing it. They fought half-heartedly and some refused to fight at all. There were also some who simply walked away from the army.
The words for "Lorena" were written by a pastor in Zanesville, Ohio and refer to a relationship between him and a young woman (whose name was not Lorena) , from a solically prominent family in his congregation. The family was responsible for breaking them up, not deeming it fitting that she marry an impoverished pastor. The words, "if we try we may forget," were not Lorena's; rather were in a letter from her brother to the pastor. Brokenhearted, he left Zanesville. Lorena later married a man who became Chief Justice of the Ohio Supreme Court.
Lyrics
The years creep slowly by, Lorena, the snow is on the grass again.
The sun's low down the sky Lorena, the frost gleams where the flowers have been.
But the heart throbs on as warmly now as when the summer days were nigh;
Oh, the sun can never dip so low a-down affection's cloudless sky...
the sun can never dip so low a-down affection's cloudless sky.
A hundred months have passed, Lorena, since last I held thy hand in mine,
and felt thy pulse beat fast, Lorena, though mine beat faster far than thine.
A hundred months, 'twas flowery May, when up the hilly slope we climbed
to watch the dying of the day and hear the distant church bells chime.
We loved each other then, Lorena, more than we ever dared to tell,
and what we might have been, Lorena, had but our lovings prospered well.
But then, 'tis past, the years have gone; I'll not call up their shadowy forms.
I'll say to them "lost years sleep on, sleep on, nor heed life's pelting storms.
The story of the past, Lorena, alas, I care not to repeat;
the hopes that could not last, Lorena, they lived but only lived to cheat.
I would not cause e'en one regret to rankle in thy bosom now,
"For if we try we may forget," were words of thine long years ago.
Yes, these were words of thine, Lorena; they are within my memory yet.
They touched some tender chords, Lorena, which thrill and tremble with regret.
'Twas not the woman's heart which spoke; thy heart was always true to me;
a duty stern and piercing broke the tie which linked my soul with thee...
a duty stern and piercing broke the tie which linked my soul with thee.
It matters little now, Lorena, the past is in the eternal past;
Our hearts will soon lie low, Lorena, life's tide is ebbing out so fast.
There is a future, oh thank God; of life this is so small a part;
'tis dust to dust beneath the sod, but there, up there, 'tis heart to heart.
'Tis dust to dust beneath the sod, but there, up there, 'tis heart to heart.
