A Poetry Treasure

Tabatha has the Poetry Friday round-up for us this week, at http://tabathayeatts.blogspot.com. Do click across and read the many wonderful posts collated there!

This past week I’ve been helping my parents pack up my grandparent’s home. My larrikin Grandan lost a protracted battle with cancer when I was in Year 8, and my quieter Grandma died 7 months ago, aged 97.

There are so many wonderful memories connected to my grandparent’s home. My dad had 3 siblings, and I had 17 cousins and those fabulous fun family times will forever warm my memories. I find I am a very sentimental soul…

I found a very dusty box of old books in the shed at Grandma’s, and included in the treasure chest was a book of poetry, given to my Great Great (?) Grandparents in memoriam of their son Seymour, who was drowned in 1900. The book ‘Why Weepest Thou?’ was published in 1888, by Thomas Nelson and Sons. I hope it comforted them during those awful days of grief.

Today I’m sharing some poems from that book.

WhyWeepestThou1

WhyWeepestThou4

‘The Grandmother’ by Tennyson

WhyWeepestThou2

‘Precious Dust’ by Watts

WhyWeepestThou3

‘Weep Not’ (Unknown)

 

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14 comments

  1. What a treasure! A slice of poetic family history, and a kind one at that.
    I added you to the round-up. I’m sorry you weren’t able to see it..that stinks! Do I have your email? I could email you a collection of the links.

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  2. Thank you for sharing this personal treasure, Kat – I can see why it brought you comfort to discover and read it. The language might be a wee bit different, but these words are timeless, whether from Tennyson or Anonymous!

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  3. Wow. A treasure indeed, and I love the hints of your history that come out in this post. I’ve been unearthing poetry treasures too–you can read about one in my post. I hope you’ll share more about your big family, and how interesting to know that someone thought a book for mourners was worth publishing! Says a lot about the age, I think.

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  4. Connections abound — my brother and I just packed up mom’s house for an auction of the contents and the sale of the house. Bittersweet time, with lots of trips down memory lane. My father’s youngest brother drowned in a farm pond when he was just shy of two years old. I wonder if my grandparents received condolences like these?

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    • I saw you pulling up roots, Mary Lee. For now Grandma’s house is rented out – so it doesn’t have quite the same finality of a sale – but I suspect that wrench will come. I hope all goes well for you with regards your sale. xx

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    • You have a point there, Brenda. Well – two, actually. A minister friend once commented that he finds it hard to find meaningful poems to share at a funeral. I must share this collection with him.

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      • I must admit, writing a generic poem about grief was not something I could do. (I tried.) But then, perhaps that was my problem – because many of the poems in the book aren’t generic poems. They each tell their own story – that others could relate to.

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