On Being An Ancestress

(to my great great grandchildren)



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I shall not care for it, I'm sure,
The being dead, you know, my dears,
And hanging primly on a wall---
Just looking on for years and years!
Ah, no, I'm sure I shall not like
To be imprisoned there in paint;
I, who love being up-to-date,
Shall never like just being - quaint!


Of course I'll do the proper thing,

And hang serenely in my place
Beside your great-great grandpapa---
A wifely smile upon my face!


And you will all look up to me---

Believe, no doubt, I was a saint,
For all my faults, of course, will be
Quite blotted out by time and paint!
No doubt your honored parents, dears,
Will point my portrait out and say:
"Your great-great granny would be shocked---
Things were so different in her day!"
And I'll not say a word, nor smile---
I'll look demure, show no surprise---
But, dears, if you seek sympathy,
I think you'll find it in my eyes!
And if you stand and look at me,
And, wistful, wonder if I knew
The pain, the passion and the stress
Of life, as they are felt by you,
Come closer, dears, and never tell---
To you a secret I'll entrust:
Your flaming hearts have caught their fire
From your great-great grandmother's dust!
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