John Rowley and Sarah Wright Family Messenger


-Edgar Guest

We are the children of the dead
Beyond the doors of Heavens blue.
Brave souls expect us to be true.
Who knows how many tears they shed.
When one of us shall walk astray.
Who knows the words of praise they say
When one of us upon the earth
Shall justify his hour of birth.

We follow them, who lived before,
Because they lived we now have life,
And strength to meet its time and strife.
For us they opened wide the door,
Bequeathed to us all things they learned,
Left guide posts on the roads they turned,
And to the best that they could know,
Pointed the way for us to go.

The dead have sung the songs we sing,
Have loved the roses and the dew.
And smiled beneath the skies of blue
Seen a swift swallow on the wing
And hoped as we are hoping here,
Foiled at their tasks from year to year.
What we who were to come to birth,
Should find a kinder righter earth.

We are the living now and yet.
Soon we must go to join the vast
Uncounted army of the past,
On whom the sun of mortal life has set;
And like our dead whose young we are
Our influence shall travel far
Behind our countless ages stay,
To learn from us the better way.

Life is hard by the yard, but by the inch it is a cinch. This poem expresses the feeling of most of us. We certainly do have an obligation to our kindred dead. To those who have paved the way for us to enjoy life. Let’s do everything in our power to make them justly proud of us, especially now that we have taken the step, by organizing ourselves into a family group. It is up to each and every one of us, one cannot do it alone.

The Editors


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s