Sullivan Ballou, July of 1861, Wrote to his wife And seven odd days later He lost his life In the First Battle of Bull Run. And the letter read... When the breeze Brushes against your cheek, Heaven is sending you My breath. Oh, my Sarah, dear, Do not mourn me dead. Think I am gone and wait for me, For we shall meet again. My love for you is deathless. Unlike the flesh of men, So if my love of country Leaves me breathless And I cannot write you, my love, again, Remember... When the breeze Brushes against your cheek, Heaven is sending you My breath. Oh, my Sarah, dear, Do not mourn me dead. Think I am gone and wait for me, For we shall meet again. And our future lies In ashes. And Sarah, you must rise From ashes. When the breeze Brushes against your cheek, Heaven is sending you My breath. When the breeze Brushes against your cheek, Heaven is sending you My breath. Oh, my Sarah... Wait for me, for we shall meet again. Sullivan...