Genealogy Chat

Can anyone please help me find a poem I saw here a short while ago. All I can remenber from the first lines are'....Your tombstone stands among the weeds neglected and alone,the name and date have long worn off....' I have tried the search facility for poems but drawn a blank.I will not get a wink of sleep until I find it! Cheers, Mike

I have it somewhere - if you do not get it later let me know. Irene

Thank you Irene .I can look forward to a good nights sleep then! Mike

Here it is: 'Dear Ancestor' Your tombstone stands among the rest; Neglected and alone. The name and the date are chiseled out On polished, marbled stone. It reaches out to all who cares It is too late to mourn. You did not know that I exist You died and I was born. Yet each of us are cells of you In flesh, in blood, in bone. Our blood contracts and beats a pulse Entirely not our own. Dear Ancestor, the place you filled One hundred years ago Spreads out among the ones you left Who would have loved you so. I wonder if you lived and loved, I wonder if you knew That someday I would find this spot, And come to visit you. Author Unknown

A Prayer for Genealogists Lord, help me dig into the past and sift the sand of time That I might find the roots that make this family tree of mine. Lord, Help me trace the ancient roads On which my fathers trod, And lead them through so many lands to find our present sod. Lord, help me find an ancient book or dusty manuscript, That's safely hidden now away in some forgotten crypt. Lord, let it bridge the gaps that haunts my soul when I can't find, This missing link between some name that ends the same as mine. Another nice one. Irene

Well done Tracey that will save me sorting mine out. There have been some nice poems on here to do with family history. Regards Irene

Thanks again Tracey and Irene,those few lines seem to say so much. Mike

Yes, I saved it from here originally and liked it so much I sent it to some of my rellies. Fortunately I'd saved it in my email so didn't have to look too far! Tracey

I copy and paste all the poems to a word document so I have always got them. Liz

The Old Scrapbook It speaks of times now long ago In a voice so soft and low, “Come, my friend, see what you can see, Come and take a look at me. My bright colors are faded and dim, But my spirit is bright within, Pictures of people in days gone by, Laughing and crying, we know not why, Cards and pamphlets, and programs old, What are the stories they have told? Wrapping paper, an old gift tag, Pieces of this, and bits of that, Little treasures that people have saved, Celebrations of special days, So many mem’ries my pages fill, They’re waiting now to give you a thrill, So come, my friend, come take a look, I am a very special old book, My binding is cracked, but my heart is whole, Looking at me is like finding gold.

Another nice one... Taking the Census It was the first day of census, and all through the land; The pollster was ready ... a black book in hand. He mounted his horse for a long dusty ride; His book and some quills were tucked close by his side. A long winding ride down a road barely there; Toward the smell of fresh bread wafting up through the air. The woman was tired, with lines on her face; And wisps of brown hair she tucked back into place. She gave him some water ... as they sat at the table; And she answered his questions ... the best she was able. He asked of her children ... Yes, she had quite a few; The oldest was twenty, the youngest not quite two. She held up a toddler with cheeks round and red; His sister, she whispered, was napping in bed. She noted each person who lived there with pride; And she felt the faint stirrings of the wee one inside. He noted the sex, the colour, the age .. The marks from the quill soon filled up the page. At the number of children, she nodded her head; And saw her lips quiver for the three that were dead. The places of birth she 'never forgot'; Was it Kansas? or Utah? Or Oregon ... or not? They came from Scotland, of that she was clear; But she wasn't quite sure just how long they'd been here. They spoke of employment, of schooling and such; They could read some and write some ... though really not much. When the questions were answered, his job there was done; So he mounted his horse and he rode toward the sun. We can imagine his voice loud and clear; 'May God Bless you all for another ten years.' Now picture a time warp ... it's now you and me; As we search for the people on our family tree. We squint at the census and scroll down so slow; As we search for that entry from long, long ago. Could they only imagine on that long ago day; That the entries they made would effect us this way? If they knew, would they wonder at the yearning we feel; And the searching that makes them so increasingly real. We can hear if we listen the words they impart; Through their blood in our veins and their voices in our heart.

Nudging so I can find this again. Thanks everyone. Shiela

i like this one i started out calmly. tracing my tree. to see if i could find the making of me. and all that i had was great-grandfather's name. i chased him across a long line of states. and came up with pages and pages of dates. when all put together. it makes me forlorn. poor old great-grandpa had never been born. one day i was sure the truth i had found. determined to turn this whole thing upside down. i looked up the record of one uncle john. but then found the old man to be younger then his son. then when my hopes were fast growing dim. i came across records that must have been him. the facts i collected made me quite sad. dear old great-grandfather was never a dad. it seems that someone is pulling my leg. im not at all sure i wasn't hatched from an egg. after hundreds of dollars i've spent on my tree. i cant help but wonder if im really me carolina xx