Charles Epps 1863-1903
Charles Epps
1863 - 1903
It was I, Charles Epps,
The mustached mason with the triumphant trowel,
The bushy browed benefactor
Of my father’s farm tools.
It was I who laid the cornerstone
Of the Friends College
There on dusty Painter Street and Philadelphia,
There in the stunning summer shadows
There under the blue confluence of God’s amazing mind
His infinite sky of azure mercies.
The smiling ladies made lunch and
The whistling men formed the lines that day!
We worked there, up on that hill,
The hill to the east beyond dusty Painter Street,
Worked there until sunset’s yawn.
With rippling muscles sore
And calloused hands splintered,
We erected the future of this Quaker town
With nails, timber and sweaty brows.
My friends, you must come to Clark Cemetery sometime,
And visit the shadows.
We lie here quite alive!
Alive amongst the perennials
Awaiting as forgotten wisps of spirit,
Awaiting God’s greatest gift-
The body’s resurrection.
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