Final Letter: Farewell
Eldest Sister (jiejie)
------
My dear eldest sister, my dear eldest sister,
Your name meant 'precious' in Chinese, and precious you were.
You were beautiful, beautiful in a natural, elegant way.
You were intelligent, and beautiful, benevolent too.
I remembered when we used to smile,
Whilst making up fun songs,
Or cooking a wonderful cake.
Elegant, beautiful, and precious,
I looked up to you, I loved you,
Brother did too... He loved you too...
I wish you could have recognized that....
I wish you could have recognized that before you....
Before you cut your own string....
You used your own string, and used it to hang yourself...
Eldest sister, oh eldest sister - why?
Why? You were loved,
You were beautiful, you were precious...
But, I cannot inquire now...
It's too late,
I'm sorry, I'm sorry
I'm sorry I could not prevent your man-made fate...
Eldest Brother
----
Eldest brother, or dearest brother...
I never got a chance to see you,
I never got a chance to catch your name,
But those facts never prevented me from loving you as if you were still here.
Sister used to talk about you in such a venerable manner.
You were a wonderful man...
You sinned yes, but that didn't prevent any one's love for you
Even now your care for us...
You forced me to forget you,
To spare pain... But, I will never forget your love...
Eldest brother, I wonder...
I wonder what it'd be like to meet you in the flesh...
I wonder why God decided your fate....
Why did he decide your fate to be hit by a drunkard?
poem by Aya Amuro Zhou
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Eldest Born Knows
And like the eldest born knows,
Experiments take place.
And like the eldest born knows,
Expectations have their weight...
Since a quickness to do,
Eliminates time thought wasted.
And like the eldest born knows,
Appreciation isn't stated...
To keep the others safe.
No one protects the eldest.
Only fate awaits.
It becomes taken for granted,
The eldest is used...
To abuse with an escape,
With lies that are told by others...
Who will never know what it is like,
To take what the eldest does.
The eldest has to learn quick,
To do everything and take care of business...
Alone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Praises to the Eldest
Praises to the eldest of siblings!
You know...
The ones parents experiment with?
The ones some plan for...
And rush to grow up,
To get it right with the other 'younger' kids!
Everything is tried on the eldest first.
Whether it is good or bad,
The eldest is going to get it first...
Not the one to get it last!
That comes after the eldest...
Has to grow up fast!
Blamed for something that was not done.
Doing chores while the younger ones have fun.
Being held accountable,
And being told to become more responsible!
Getting sick?
Forget it.
Pretending not to be,
Is what the elder one...
Chooses the younger ones not to see!
He or she has to prove how strong he or she has to be!
And making demands the eldest has to do.
They know when they've been ignored like a pair of old shoes!
And don't be a male in a family of females.
There is nothing right the eldest one can do!
The younger ones will accuse the eldest.
And get away with it too!
Like lieing about what the eldest one does.
Because the eldest one,
Is the one born that everyone likes to pick on...
To abuse and use!
Until the eldest one decides to leave the nest...
To do what he or she chooses to do best.
Growing older alone...
And finding themselves in a home,
The eldest one had said...
Never again they would return,
To hear the bitching, groaning and moans.
And finding themselves with no one there,
To care what the eldest does.
With who...
Or if anyone is there to share!
But...
It is soooo peaceful!
'Thank you,
Father God!
THIS has indeed been earned! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Which Is The Favourite?
Brothers and sisters I have many:
Though I know there is not any
Of them but I love, yet I
Will just name them all; and try
If there be one a little more
Loved by me than all the rest.
Yes; I do think, that I love best
My brother Henry, because he
Has always been most fond of me.
Yet, to be sure, there's Isabel;
I think I love her quite as well.
And, I assure you, little Ann,
No brother nor no sister can
Be more dear to me than she.
Only I must say, Emily,
Being the eldest, it's right her
To all the rest I should prefer.
Yet after all I've said, suppose
My greatest favourite should be Rose.
No, John and Paul are both more dear
To me than Rose, that's always here,
While they are half the year at school;
And yet that neither is no rule.
I've named them all, there's only seven;
I find my love to all so even,
To every sister, every brother,
I love not one more than another.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Cry
Our fire will rise
Ringmaster's eyes
Funhouse will rock
Those boys don't lie
Immortal fear
It's voice so clear
Through broken walls
Your screams I hear
Cry little sister
Come, come to your brother
Unchain me sister
Love is with your brother
Clown masquerade rich boys look up
When will they learn
This loneliness?
Temptation's heat
Milenko's word
Deep in your soul
You cannot lie
Come, come to your brother
Unchain me sister
Love is with your brother
Our shangrila
You can't forget
Always so close
Come to us now
Cry little sister
Come, come to your brother
Unchain me sister
Love is with your brother
Cry little sister
Come, come to your brother
Unchain me sister
Love is with your brother
Cry, little sister
song performed by by Zug Izland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nicknames
nicknames are thrown
around in my family;
our own terms of endearment
word could not describe.
it is that closeness
towards each other
through words that evoke
a special experience
with a brother or sister
or just a plain description of
his uniqueness.
a brother is called La Ting
because of his bald head when a
baby.
eldest brother is labelled Ming
instead of his real name Thai
because of his intelligence
when a child.
Ming means clear-minded.
Another is called Lung
instead of Ing because of his
Chinese horoscope sign dragon
which in Mandarin is Lung.
mom's favourite animal sign
is dragon so the name sticks.
youngest brother is Bee,
my own spontaneous invention
when I saw the cute little child
in mom's hands many years back.
I am so glad and proud
that this is the only creation
in my life that has been used
for so long and that it
has surprisingly given
brother all the good luck;
he turns out to be a bank's manager.
he should have me to thank
for all his fortune.
another brother is called Chi
instead of his real name Kui.
i could not fathom the
reason for this and wonder
which brother first started
calling him that.
eldest sister is Pui
instead of Hua because
of her plumbness when a baby.
and oh dear, we are naughty
when it comes to our neighbours.
many of them have secret nicknames
coined from the way they
talk, walk, and even look
and we really hope they would
never ever find out these names.
Our family just bubble in
our neighbourhood because of
our incessant inner creative jest
to coin all those secret words.
perhaps, we are nicknamed too
which we never
bother about because
we know nicknames are
given out of endearment.
at least, that is the case with us.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A sister. A brother.
A brother is the one who holds you as you shake in fear.
A sister is the one who looks up at you with love on her face.
A brother is the one who whipes the tears from your face and hugs you tight.
A sister is the one who tells you her deepest fears and her dreams for the future.
A brother is the one who watches as you becomes the woman you always wanted to be.
A sister is the one who fulfills her dreams with you right by her side, cheering her on.
A brother is the one who holds you through the downs and smiles through the ups.
A sister is the one who thanks you for your love and support.
A brother is the one who just smiles and says it was his pleasure.
A sister is the one who looks at you like the stars that shine.
A brother is the one who looks at you like you are his world.
A sister.
A brother.
They need each other.
poem by Samantha Hickey
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Binnorie
THERE were twa sisters sat in a bour;
Binnorie, O Binnorie!
There cam a knight to be their wooer,
By the bonnie milldams o' Binnorie.
He courted the eldest with glove and ring,
But he lo'ed the youngest abune a thing.
The eldest she was vexed sair,
And sair envìed her sister fair.
Upon a morning fair and clear,
She cried upon her sister dear:
'O sister, sister tak my hand,
And let 's go down to the river-strand.'
She 's ta'en her by the lily hand,
And led her down to the river-strand.
The youngest stood upon a stane,
The eldest cam and push'd her in.
'O sister, sister reach your hand!
And ye sall be heir o' half my land:
'O sister, reach me but your glove!
And sweet William sall be your love.'
Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam,
Until she cam to the miller's dam.
Out then cam the miller's son,
And saw the fair maid soummin' in.
'O father, father draw your dam!
There 's either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.'
The miller hasted and drew his dam,
And there he found a drown'd women.
You couldna see her middle sma',
Her gowden girdle was sae braw.
You couldna see her lily feet,
Her gowden fringes were sae deep.
All amang her yellow hair
A string o' pearls was twisted rare.
You couldna see her fingers sma',
Wi' diamond rings they were cover'd a'.
And by there cam a harper fine,
That harpit to the king at dine.
And when he look'd that lady on,
He sigh'd and made a heavy moan.
He 's made a harp of her breast-bane,
Whose sound wad melt a heart of stane.
He 's ta'en three locks o' her yellow hair,
And wi' them strung his harp sae rare.
He went into her father's hall,
And there was the court assembled all.
He laid his harp upon a stane,
And straight it began to play by lane.
'O yonder sits my father, the King,
And yonder sits my mother, the Queen;
'And yonder stands my brother Hugh,
And by him my William, sweet and true.'
But the last tune that the harp play'd then--
Binnorie, O Binnorie!
Was, 'Woe to my sister, false Helen!'
By the bonnie milldams o' Binnorie.
Brothers, Sisters
I don’t care what skin you’re in
You’re my brother
And I love you
I don’t care how messed up its bin
You’re my sister
And I love you
The past
Its history
He’s won the victory
You’re my brother
My sister
I love you
South African
Through and through
Should have Gone through pain and sorrow with you
My brothers and sisters
I love you
I watched as people discriminated
They ostracized
The pride
The pain
My brother
My sister
Love hurts
But by Christ we see
It’s the only way it should be
Sacrifice fuels our hearts
It sets us ablaze
For you
I will risk it
Our citizenship
On paper- False
But in our hearts- the rebirth certificate
A citizenship not of this world
Made one by Christ
We’re together
No more divides
My brother and sister
I love you
How can I just stand by?
How can I live my life without loving you?
You’re my brother
You’re my sister
And I love you
By his scars we are made one
By his bruises set free
He accepts us as we are
Broken and battered
He loves us at the greatest cost
So why should I hold back?
How can I?
With such knowledge all I can do is love you
My brother and my sister
poem by Jessica Nobubele Frame
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Super sister in law
Super sister sister in law
What a super babe.
A sister of the five
The eldest with four children,
Works so hard and at being Mom and Dad.
Also working hard in school.
makes me glad to have a supersister in law.
Doesnt need to leap tall buildings.
No need to save lives.
One look from her is enoug to scare a grown man,
That super sister
makes men fel like mice.
But she's really nice
that's why she's my Super sister in law.
poem by Ibrar Siddiqi
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Sonnet: Rosabelle
Oh Rosabelle, forgive me for my part!
Thou art my eldest sibling like mother;
Thine silence somehow hurts my wounded heart;
Bestow thy love again for thine brother!
Thou art the bud that blossomed flower first,
And emanated fragrance that was sweet!
To see thee happy- my heart is athirst;
Oh how I wish to talk to thee and meet!
If differences cropped, ’tis not my fault;
I am the same in heart and mind, not health;
We ate like food and tasted common salt;
Yet, love seems shadowed by some hate, some wealth.
What dost thou gain by staying so aloof?
Remember that we’d shared a common roof!
3-6-2004 copyright by dr john celes
Dedicated to my beloved eldest sister Mary Rosabelle
poem by John Celes
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Killer
Brother
Sister
It's the loneliness thats the killer
So you want
To be free
To live your life
The way you want to be
Will you give
If we cry
Will we live
Or will we die
Jaded hearts
Heal with time
Shoot that love
So we can
Stop the bleeding
Solitary brother
Is there still a part of you that wants to live
Solitary sister
Is there still a part of you that wants to give
Solitary brother
Is there still a part of you that wants to live
Solitary sister
Is there still a part of you that wants to give
If we try
And live our lives
The way we wanna be
Yeah
Brother brother
Sister sister
Brother brother brother brother brother
There's no other love There's no other love There's no other love
There is no other love no other love like ours
There's no other love There's no other love There's no other love
There is no other love no other love like ours
There's no other love There's no other love There's no other love
There's no other love There's no other love There's no other love
There is no love
Solitary brother
Is there still a part of you that wants to live
Solitary sister
Is there still a part of you that wants to give
Solitary brother
Solitary Sister
Is there still a part of you that wants to give
Racism in among future kings can only lead to no good
Besides all our sons and daughters already know how that feels
song performed by by Seal from Debut
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twa Sisters O' Binnorie
There were twa sisters sat in a bow'r;
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
A knight cam' there, a noble wooer,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
He courted the eldest wi' glove and ring,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
But he lo'ed the youngest aboon a' thing,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
The eldest she was vexed sair,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
And sair envìed her sister fair,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
Upon a morning fair and clear,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie !)
She cried upon her sister dear,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
`O sister, sister, tak' my hand,'
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
`And let's go down to the river-strand,'
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
She's ta'en her by the lily hand,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
And down they went to the river-strand
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
The youngest stood upon a stane,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
The eldest cam' and pushed her in,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
'O sister, sister, reach your hand!'
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
'And ye sall be heir o' half my land'--
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
'O sister, reach me but your glove!'
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
'And sweet William sall be your love'--
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
Till she cam' to the mouth o' yon mill-dam,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie
Out then cam' the miller's son
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
And saw the fair maid swimmin' in,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
'O father, father, draw your dam!'
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
'There's either a mermaid or a swan,'
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
The miller quickly drew the dam,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
And there he found a drown'd womàn,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
Round about her middle sma'
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
There went a gouden girdle bra'
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
All amang her yellow hair
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
A string o' pearls was twisted rare,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
On her fingers lily-white,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
The jewel-rings were shining bright,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
And by there cam' a harper fine,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
Harpèd to nobles when they dine,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
And when he looked that lady on,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
He sigh'd and made a heavy moan,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
He's ta'en three locks o' her yellow hair,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
And wi' them strung his harp sae rare,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
He went into her father's hall,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
And played his harp before them all,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
And sune the harp sang loud and clear,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
`Fareweel, my father and mither dear!'
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
And neist when the harp began to sing,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
'Twas 'Fareweel, sweetheart!' said the string,
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.
And then as plain as plain could be,
(Binnorie, O Binnorie!)
'There sits my sister wha drownèd me!
By the bonny mill-dams o' Binnorie.'
poem by Anonymous Americas
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The Twa Sisters
There was twa sisters in a bowr,
Edinburgh, Edinburgh
There was twa sisters in a bowr,
Stirling for ay
There was twa sisters in a bowr,
There came a knight to be their wooer.
Bonny Saint Johnston stands upon Tay
He courted the eldest wi glove an ring,
But he lovd the youngest above a’ thing.
He courted the eldest wi brotch an knife,
But lovd the youngest as his life.
The eldest she was vexed sair,
An much envi’d her sister fair.
Into her bowr she could not rest,
Wi grief an spite she almos brast.
Upon a morning fair an clear,
She cried upon her sister dear:
‘O sister, come to yon sea stran,
An see our father’s ships come to lan.’
She’s taen her by the milk-white han,
An led her down to yon sea stran.
The younges[t] stood upon a stane,
The eldest came an threw her in.
She tooke her by the middle sma,
An dashd her bonny back to the jaw.
‘O sister, sister, tak my han,
An Ise mack you heir to a’ my lan.
‘O sister, sister, tak my middle,
An yes get my goud and my gouden girdle.
‘O sister, sister, save my life,
An I swear Ise never be nae man’s wife.’
‘Foul fa the han that I should tacke,
It twin’d me an my wardles make.
‘Your cherry cheeks an yallow hair
Gars me gae maiden for evermair.’
Sometimes she sank, an sometimes she swam,
Till she came down yon bonny mill-dam.
O out it came the miller’s son,
An saw the fair maid swimmin in.
‘O father, father, draw your dam,
Here’s either a mermaid or a swan.’
The miller quickly drew the dam,
An there he found a drownd woman.
You coudna see her yallow hair
For gold and pearle that were so rare.
You coudna see her middle sma
For gouden girdle that was sae braw.
You coudna see her fingers white,
For gouden rings that was sae gryte.
An by there came a harper fine,
That harped to the king at dine.
When he did look that lady upon,
He sighd and made a heavy moan.
He’s taen three locks o her yallow hair,
An wi them strung his harp sae fair.
The first tune he did play and sing,
Was, ‘Farewell to my father the king.’
The nextin tune that he playd syne,
Was, ‘Farewell to my mother the queen.’
The lasten tune that he playd then,
Was, ‘Wae to my sister, fair Ellen.’
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sisters And Brothers
I wish I had a sister, who would be there all the time
I wish I had a brother, who would be all mine
I wish I wasnt alone anymore just as I am
so mabey I need to take a stand
all I have is my mother.
My sister and brother are both gone
not one of them here when I get home
sometimes not even my mother
I have to have a sister or brother.
My sister and brother both are gone
but they wont be alone for long
for even though I never saw them from the start
they will always be here in my heart.
poem by jamika Eichelberger
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Sister Sister
Sister Sister
My sister is funny
she likes to eat money
I can't wait till she goes to school
she might have a lot of work to do
I will have to teach her how to spell
I never want to be in hell
My Sister is a tease
She is always making me freeze
She is so great
I do believe in fate
I am only seven
But I know all about heaven
My sister is almost two
I will have to teach her to tie her shoes
My sister I love to death
She is sometimes a mess
My sister i will never forget
She needs to learn not to hit
SISTER SISTER
I love you so
Thank you for being my sister
I will miss you so
poem by Sierra Breeland
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The Two Sisters
There was twa sisters in a bowr,
Edinburgh, Edinburgh
There was twa sisters in a bowr,
Stirling for ay
There was twa sisters in a bowr,
There came a knight to be their wooer.
Bonny Saint Johnston stands upon Tay.
He courted the eldest wi glove an ring,
But he lovd the youngest above a' thing.
He courted the eldest wi brotch an knife,
But lovd the youngest as his life.
The eldest she was vexed sair,
An much envi'd her sister fair.
Into her bowr she could not rest,
Wi grief an spite she almos brast.
Upon a morning fair an clear,
She cried upon her sister dear:
"O sister, come to yon sea stran,
An see our father's ships come to lan."
She's taen her by the milk-white han,
An led her down to yon sea stran.
The youngest stood upon a stane,
The eldest came an threw her in.
She tooke her by the middle sma,
An dashd her bonny back to the jaw.
"O sister, sister, tak my han,
An Ise mack you heir to a' my lan.
"O sister, sister, tak my middle,
An yes get my goud and my gouden girdle.
"O sister, sister, save my life,
An I swear Ise never be nae man's wife."
"Foul fa the han that I should tacke,
It twin'd me an my wardles make.
"Your cherry cheeks an yallow hair
Gars me gae maiden for evermair."
Sometimes she sank, an sometimes she swam,
Till she came down yon bonny mill-dam.
O out it came the miller's son,
An saw the fair maid swimmin in.
"O father, father, draw your dam,
Here's either a mermaid or a swan."
The miller quickly drew the dam,
An there he found a drownd woman.
You coudna see her yallow hair
For gold and pearle that were so rare.
You coudna see her middle sma
For gouden girdle that was sae braw.
You coudna see her fingers white,
For gouden rings that was sae gryte.
An by there came a harper fine,
That harped to the king at dine.
When he did look that lady upon,
He sighd and made a heavy moan.
He's taen three locks o her yallow hair,
An wi them strung his harp sae fair.
The first tune he did play and sing,
Was, "Farewell to my father the king."
The nextin tune that he playd syne,
Was, "Farewell to my mother the queen."
The lasten tune that he playd then,
Was, "Wae to my sister, fair Ellen."
poem by Anonymous Americas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Open Your Arms
Sitting under the money tree
look for the fruits of charity
best to pick them fast for they too far gone
they grow rotten to the core on the greedy man's farm
open your moth the words don't come out
even though the thoughts in your head seem to flow
are you so afraid what everybody thinks
are you so afraid to show what you know
to get along, with your sister your brother
get along, we all the same under this shell
brother to brother and sister to sister
and people are people and...
open your arms
monkey do monkey see
why you want to upset me
monkey go monkey say
but let me live my life today
monkey hear monkey walk
monkey you so full of talk
when are we every gonna learn
to fulfill the need to be free
feel free
be free
stand free
wont need mediocrity
brother to sister and
sister to brother and
brother to brother and sister to sister
open your arms
poem by Harlan Lovestone
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What Is Fancy?
SISTER.
I am to write three lines, and you
Three others that will rhyme.
There-now I've done my task.
BROTHER.
Three stupid lines as e'er I knew.
When you've the pen next time,
Some question of me ask.
SISTER.
Then tell me, brother, and pray mind,
Brother, you tell me true:
What sort of thing is fancy?
BROTHER.
By all that I can ever find,
'Tis something that is very new,
And what no dunces can see.
SISTER.
That is not half the way to tell
What fancy is about;
So pray now tell me more.
BROTHER.
Sister, I think 'twere quite as well
That you should find it out;
So think the matter o'er.
SISTER.
It's what comes in our heads when we
Play at 'Let's-make-believe,'
And when we play at 'Guessing.'
BROTHER.
And I have heard it said to be
A talent often makes us grieve,
And sometimes proves a blessing.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Every One's Talking,
every one's talking,
all they did to me,
they be talking,
I knew them for these pattern's,
every one's talking of I,
I don't think I have a brother,
no a sister,
the negation burn in me,
when trust is in selling your right's,
I know that you I loved,
Sustained my time,
I honour the Lord for taking me to Heaven,
Reason of life and death,
You sustained my blood,
Washed me and every one's talking of me,
All they do is talk ill of me,
When will us have peace, ?
War never stopping.
War escalating,
War of Iraq and America,
War of the Middle East,
All my brother's and sister's,
from America,
All my brother's and sister's
from Iraq,
All my brother's and sister's
from the Middle East,
Tell me what's going on,
President's
Tell me what's going on,
When you kill our brother's,
Steal our sister's,
Then I will be bothered,
That the war never end's,
When my brother's die from the middle east,
I'm ready to be a victim,
It really affect's each human being,
The world is not a boundary of countries,
The world is an integration of metaphysical volition,
Brothers and Sister's,
I don't need these trouble's,
Tell me what's going on,
I don't need these trouble's,
I've had enough from the world,
We don't need no more trouble's.
poem by Maxim Muyu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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William House and Family
Come all kind friends, both far and near,
Come listen to me and you shall hear --
It's of a family and their fate,
All about them I will relate.
They once did live at Edgerton,
They once did live at Muskegon,
From there they went to Chicago,
Which proved their fatal overthrow.
It was William House's family,
As fine a family as you see --
His family was eleven in all,
I do not think it was very small.
Two children died some years ago,
Before they went to Chicago,
Five children there he had with him,
When death his home there enters in.
The small-pox then was raging there,
And Oh! it would not their house spare,
For all but one was sick of them,
A dreadful house it must have been.
The eldest girl was married then,
The eldest boy was in Michigan,
The second boy he was at home,
And took care of them all alone.
His father and his mother dear,
And dear sister, too, I hear,
Were very sick and in his care,
And no kind friends to help him there:
Two little brothers, and a baby too,
Made six in all -- what could he do,
He had to take care of them all,
The baby, too, was very small.
As he would go to his father's bed,
And try to soothe his aching head,
"My son, I pray you leave me, do
Go take care of poor mother, too."
"Your mother and sister need your care,
And your little infant brother there;
Oh! Charlie, Charlie, take care of them,
My son, do all for them you can."
It seemed as though he did not know
That his poor soul so soon must go,
And leave his little ones he loved,
To go to that bright world above.
But God he called his soul away,
It had to leave, it could not stay --
He never more on earth will be,
His soul is from sin and sorrow free.
Charles helped the sexton, I am told,
To lay his form in the coffin cold --
How sad, how sad, poor soul was he,
When last his father's form did see.
Minnie May House she had to go,
And leave her friends that loved her so --
She was a girl in her teens,
A lovely flower as e'er was seen.
Minnie and her mother lay on one bed,
And when Charles said, "our Minnie is dead,"
His mother then she did grow wild,
And early after knew her child.
They buried Minnie by her father's side,
And left them there where they had died --
Charles took his mother and brothers then
And brought them back to Michigan.
For the mother and the baby too,
Kind friends did all that they could do,
But those poor souls they could not save,
For now they're sleeping in their grave.
Oh! what a noble son was he,
His age was then only sixteen --
Charles House's name I have told before
God bless his soul forever more.
poem by Julia A Moore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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