This poem will give the reader a peep into the soul of this good man.
He loved roses and would have them in his pockets and so many times in his
mouth,
that at his funeral, a rose was laid across his lips in the casket
(To My Wife, Vira Whitman Durham)
They say we’re growing old, dear wife,
That we’ve lived out most all our days;
That in this world of busy strife,
We’ve climbed the mount in joyful praise.
Our locks have threads of silver bright;
The eye some dimmed by passing years.
These locks send back a pensive light—
Our eyes respond to early tears.
It may be true, “grinders are low,”
And daily steps are not so fast;
May be the cheek has not the glow,
Of early years, of sunny past.
But no, nor did, dear wife, today;
Tho’ years have come and years have gone.
We’re just the same, that I must say,
As when we met and pledged as one.
Those silver threads are “beckoning hands,”
To keep our feet along the way,
They make us think of heaven’s land,
Where hope is joy and all is day.
No, we’re not old, the years have sped,
Tho’ time has wreathed the brow with care,
Tho’ two times twenty-two since wed,
Has placed us on the “golden stair.”
My dear, you know hearts ne’er grow old,
That’s filled each day with purest love;
It’s a “golden chain,” when all is told,
That binds in truth, the heart above.
A heavenly heir, a gift from God
For “faith and hope shall pass away,”
While love shall bloom along the road
That leads us on to endless day.
Love’s message from the heavenly home
Bright angels brought down from above,
And he’s an “heir of Heaven’s throne,”
“Whose bosom’s all aglow with love.”
I know I’ve lived the Psalmist’s time,
Just “three score years and ten” today,
While three years less on this same line,
Makes plain the path along your way.
From childhood’s life to perfect age,
We’ve measured well each passing way.
We’ve strewed on memory’s “golden page”
Garlands of wisdom every day.
We count these years without alloy
To this—our anniversary day,
They’ve come with hope and gone with joy,
And left us on life’s “royal way.”
We see our household with delight,
Brave soldiers in life’s battle field,
Full armor clad, with “sword so bright,”
In army line with—faith’s strong shield.”
Hearts full of love, our hands still greet
That keep our path, with sunshine bright;
While “heaven’s lamp shines on our feet”
to keep our way in perfect light.
Still on, to “sunny land of song,”
We press, and on our happy way,
To meet and greet, those loved so long
In endless life and perfect day.
And so we tread “the narrow way,”
the road that leads to endless day,
It may be near, it may be far,
But yet there stands “the gate ajar.”
--J. DURHAM.
Irvington, Cal. August 21, 1906
The Galt Area Historical Society offers a book of our local history called Tapestry. Click here for more information.
Last edited 27 February, 2005
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