O n   B e i n g    A n   A n c e s t r e s s

(To My Great, Great Grandchildren)

I shall not care for it, I'm sure, 
 Of being dead you know, my dears, 
 And hanging primly on the wall
 Just looking on for years

No, I'm sure I shall not like
 To be imprisoned  there  in paint
 I,  who loved being up-to date. 
Shall never like just being quaint!

Of course, I'll do the proper thing 
And I'll hang serene in my place
 Beside your great-great Grandpa- 
A wifely smile upon my face!

And you will all look up to me, 
and believe no doubt, I was a saint-
And all my faults, of course, will be
 All 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  passioned  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.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Submitted by
Mary Hinton Kerr
Warrenton, North Carolina
North Carolina Genealogical Magazine
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