The Unchanging Nature of Love and Anguish

At times it seems to me that we, and past and succeeding generations, fall into the self-satisfying fantasy of supposing that no one has felt as keenly as we feel, has understood as deeply as we understand, has suffered as profoundly as we have suffered, nor ever will. Things were different in the days of our parents and grandparents and their parents and grandparents, and surely our children and their children cannot possibly ever be as sensitive to the highs and lows, the victories and losses of life as we are. Yet, in reality, such suppositions about people in other times are as nonsensical as believing that people of other cultures or races do not mourn for their parents, weep over their children, or that they “don’t feel pain the way we do.” 

Then come moments of realization and understanding. One reads the ancient biblical account of King David (a hard man himself) weeping at the death of his treacherous son Absalom, and wishing he had died in his stead. One reads such poetry as the classics “Little Boy Blue” and “Casa Wappy,” whose authors put words to the loss of a child in such a way that reaches deep into the soul with words from beyond the grave, as when David MacBeth Moir (Delta) said, in 1838,

Words may not paint our grief for thee,
Sighs are but bubbles on the sea
Of our unfathomed agony.

These give us occasional glimpses into the universal reality of love, pain and heartache, and help us to understand that we are not so different, generation to generation, century to century, millennium to millennium.

I recently came across a song that had its popularity during the Civil War. Published in 1863, it was so evocative of emotion that some commanders are said to have forbidden their soldiers to sing it. It brought home to me, once again, that human emotion is timeless and immutable; that our similarities are much greater than our differences.

The song is “Weeping, Sad and Lonely,” also called “When This Cruel War is Over.” Read it and weep.

Dearest love do you remember, When we first did meet,
How you told me that you loved me, Kneeling at my feet?
Oh! How proud you stood before me, In your suit of blue,
When you vow'd to me and country, Ever to be true.

Weeping, sad and lonely, Hopes and fears, how vain,
When this cruel war is over, Praying! That we meet again.

When the summer breeze is sighing, Mournfully along
Or when autumn leaves are falling, Sadly breathes the song.
Oft in dreams I see thee lying, On the battle plain,
Lonely, wounded, even dying, Calling but in vain.

Weeping, sad and lonely, Hopes and fears, how vain,
When this cruel war is over, Praying! That we meet again.

If amid the din of battle, Nobly you should fall,
Far away from those who love you, None to hear your call.
Who would whisper words of comfort, Who would soothe your pain?
Ah! The many cruel fancies, Ever in my brain.

Weeping, sad and lonely, Hopes and fears, how vain,
When this cruel war is over, Praying! That we meet again.