Here is a poem written around 1929-1930 by my Grandfather I would like to share with you -
Memories
Four little shoes, now empty
A childish garment hung on the back of a baby’s wagon.
They tell of a man’s heart wrung,
To the depth, with bitter anguish,
With sorrow that sears the heart
Of a love that no words can picture
Of a family forced apart.
Two little caps hung idly
On the back of a bedroom door
But the two little heads are missing
As they never were missed before.
There’s a void in my heart that nothing but only their
Presence can fill
And the heart of me, pent-up with sadness like a bird’s
Keeps a’fluttering still.
Two little memories golden
Bringing back eyes divine
Memories of sweet and childish lips
Once lovingly pressed to mine.
Then – sin – in the guise of Adam
Crept shamelessly in one day
And she, whom we thought so perfect,
We found to be nought –only base potters clay.
But God, with His hands of justice
Will measure, as one and all.
Though the mills of God grind slowly
They grind exceedingly small
And whatever He mete out to others
‘Tis but just to remember your due
Inasmuch as you’ve done to my children
The same shall be mete out to you.
W.A.Steward
