And there was the coffin plate, and the wax cross, and the hair wreath; and the room was just as still as death.

And I knew I wasn't in Boston.

I was there in Andersonville, And there wasn't any Baby Lester there, nor any mother waiting for me in the next room.

And all the fluffy white dresses and silk stockings in the world wouldn't make me Marie.

I was really just Mary, and I had got to have three whole months more of it.
And then is when I began to cry.