Come sit awhile with me
on the porch of ages past,
and drift back in hazy time, to be with the ones of old,
to hold them now, in how they lived and died.
“Comforts were few in eighteen-fifty-five,
They got up at dawn and they had to strive
With element and enemy to keep alive
And were lucky if they lived to woo and wive
In the early, early days. ….
History tells us they were hard and bold;
They carved out forests and they dug for gold,
But many died young and some died old…
from The Early Days by Basil Dowling
With healing and love,