David Morris 1840-1914
I was indeed a rich man!
A lucky man, a family man,
A man firmly ensconced in the faith
Of the Nazarene.
It is written my friends
That to live for Christ
Is the summit of wisdom,
For wise men still seek Him!
And to die for Christ
Is the absolute acme of human existence.
Rachel and I came to this heaven on earth
When the roads here were dirt in the summer
And mud in the winter.
Yes, me and the missus,
My lovely bride and me,
Found a home here in 1894
A comfortable curtained home on shady Milton Street
When the unburdened trees
Of ten thousand acres
Contained a myriad of feathered fledglings.
And so, with our own five chirping sparrows in the nest
The missus and me, we marveled at
Their gregarious growth and
Their high intrepid flight!
To the northern icy regions
Our first fragile sparrow flew.
Lizzie, my fledgling wanderlust,
Found simple salvation in a cold wooden Iowan pew.
And later, found everlasting life and love
On the frozen Arctic tundra
Of ten thousand luminescent northern lights.
As far north as Dearing Station, my friends,
Twenty miles from the Arctic Circle
Our Lizzie travelled,
Travelled with steadfast faith,
A faith so firm, so unyielding,
It put me, her proud and faithful father,
Copyright © stark hunter | Year Posted 2016