Picking up from the previous blog, and adding another ancestor in the comparison, I will now make my debut in poetry by including a poem (I don't know what else to call it) which was written nine or ten years ago about a house. It was originally written for a genealogy piece on family history. Nathaniel Foote in the poem was a grandson of Nathaniel Foote, who first arrived in America from Colchester, England, in 1630. I think the poem is self-explanatory and I make no apologies for how bad or good it is poetry-wise.
NATHANIEL FOOTE'S HOUSE
In the year after 1701,
Nathaniel's house was finally done.
He had worked so long and hard,
In old Colchester's grassy yard,
To complete this family home,
'Twas lovely as a Shelley poem.
The four walls were securely connected,
Where his family would be protected.
From the hostile elements without,
Safe inside they could sing and shout.
Nathaniel, Nathaniel, what a job you've done,
One little room for all or none.
Your mighty effort was acclaimed,
As the D.A.R. has explained.
It's a monument in perpetu-um,
As the Foote House 'n Muse-um,
Standing in old Colchester town,
Where it has become greatly renown.
It breaks our hearts, Nathaniel Foote,
That the mighty effort you did put,
Into this tiny house on this land,
Was the final task at hand.
God called you from on high,
Before in it you could lie.
So, rest quietly, and be assured,
We appreciate what you endured.
It's a lasting legacy of strength,
Against the odds at length,
And a monument to inspire,
All to reach higher 'n higher.
And there you have it. The little house was built in Colchester, Connecticut. Any comments, good or bad, will be appreciated.