To My Ancestors
I see you toiling down the tedious years,
You bearded, gaunt, and bent old pioneers,
Sowing, and reaping, sowing once again,
In patience for an unborn race of men.
I see you struggling in the wilderness
Where failure meant starvation - and success
>
A cabin in the wilderness, rough hewn, crude,
Garments of homespun and the humblest food.
Tradition scarcely tells me whence you came,
I only know a few of you by name:
I only know you lived and multiplied
Quite profligate in progeny - and died.
Yet in my heart I know that most of you,
Were strong and steadfast and that one or two
At least had weaknesses that still may be
Traced in the trends of atavistic me.
One I am sure was blest with native wit -
I'm thankful he transmitted some of it! -
That helped him dodge Dame Trouble's swiftest dart,
And meet misfortune with a merry heart.
One was rather a worthless wight I fear,
Who when the bluebird whispered Spring was near
Forsook his plow - a shiftless sluggard one
And roamed the woods alone with rod and gun.
And one a gentle dreamer was, I know,
Who, lured by shadows, let the substance go.
Twas he who dared the raging Western sea -
I'm glad he handed down his dreams to me!
A
uthor Unknown
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