Poem by Mrs. F. W. Doane - Second Coe Family Reunion

We have come from far and near to-day

To have a happy cozy time,

And in a free coequal way

To make the hours melodious chime

Yes! We are all co-ordinate

United all in heart and hand,

Not as a coterie of friends we come

But as kindred bound by dearest ties,

Back we come to the dear old home

Where sweetest memories arise.

Surely it is a pleasant sight to see

These generations gathered here.

How proud ear Grandmamma must be

Of all her numerous offspring dear,

And how her mind must fondly dream

Of all the busy years gone by,

How strange to her it all must seem

When such a gathering meets her eye.

Her many years have come and gone…

Each burdened with some dole of care,

Year after year still hurrying on

Its stent of love, and toil and pain to-bear

And grandmamma looks back to-day

On seeing all these loved ones here…

And walks once more along the way

Whose every landmark stands out clear

She sees herself a bonnie bride…

A bonnie bride of long ago,

With loving husband by her side

So strong to meet life’s toil and woe.

When life took on the fairest guise

That sweet young life can ever know,

When earth a while seemed Paradise.

 To hearts with earnest-love aglow.

From that sweet hour, adown the years

How swift the changing scenes pass on,

A rush of hopes, of joys and fears

A moment seen, a moment gone.

No doubt too far they often went

And did just what they should not do

Like other boys, on mischief bent,

Full many a boyish trick they knew.

We may be sure that they might tell

Of many a jolly escapade,

And calamities which on them fell

When of their plotting were betrayed.

Or have they forgotten in Manhood's prime,

The training rods, or slippers plastic,

Which, brought in use at proper time

Make boys both pious and gymnastic?

Have they cut down the well known tree

Which furnished sprouts so tough and limber

Or do they let it live that it may be

For boys to come, correction timber?

But grandma’s boys are boys no more,

They, too, are on life’s shady side

They feel their most vigorous days are o’er,

Although they may not own it in their pride.

And grandmamma has had full share

Of trials and of bitter pain,

And year by year a web of care

Across her path of life has lain.

But now she has her “Harvest home”

Of fondly loving hearts and true,

To her as recompense they come

And thus life’s better part renew.

Children an grandchildren around her stand

To give her reverent greeting

And great-grandchildren too increase the bond

The links of joy completing.

What memories to her mind must rise

To fill the measures of this day,

How near the past this present lies

In varied, yet commingling way.

She sees her boys to-day as stalwart men,

Barb-thinks, perhaps, of all their early ways,

Of all the pranks they cut-up then,

In boyhoods ever happiest days.

But all the marks of time and care

No thought of skill can ever hide.

Dame nature has advantage there,

And by her laws we must abide.

But in our children’s lives our joys renew;

They keep us young in thought, if not in frame,

And in their looks and ways we often view

Far more than mere inheritance of name;

And so to-day we look from face to face

And see full many a likeness shone;

The sire or mother in the child we trace

And Nature’s skill to copy own.

These little girls in their happy play

Some thought to Grandmamma must bring

Of one she fondled with a mother’s ways

To her life’s sweetest fairest thing.

A charming little singing bird,

That to the mothers home nest came,

And made the sweetest music ever heard

In notes which love and trust proclaim.

They called the birdie Phebe, and her song

Made music for each loving heart,

E’en melody for which fond lovers long,

And ever seek with captivating art,

And so in time there came a Page,

Dressed up in all his Sunday clothes,

And stole sweet Phoebe for his cage.

To charm away his cares and woes.

But blessings come in varied guise

And that young Page confirmed the saying trite

For he has proved a husband man most wise

Who for the future plans aright,

And by his Culture the family tree

Has added branches strong and fair,

Which every one can plainly see

A good and wholesome fruitage bear

And other branches of the goodly tree

Are also in a thrifty way,

Indeed, no danger can there be

That stock like this will soon decay,

And as the coming years an increase bring.

May each addition honor well the name,

Nor ever cause one blush of shame.

And may the co-inheritance

Cohere as long as time shall last, 

Its cohorts never meet mischance,

But so-operate where ‘ere life’s lines are cast.

And then the race will never fail

 But strong in coalition stand,

Its virtues every where prevail

Its name be honored through the land.

Pray do not treat as only jokes

These terms your rhymer dares to rise

In strong thus to slyly coax.

A leggard and cogrietting muse,

For really there is honest thought in every line

And only this to cause regret,

That more capacious brains than mine

Did not these thoughts to better jingle get.

But time goes on and this must end

Before you weary of the strain.

And wish my Pegasus its gait would mend

And take a galloping refrain.

And so I’ll gradually coerce

My dull antigraiated steed

Into a different style of verse

More suited to the present need

No doubt you all have well enjoyed

The many pleasures of to-day

For “Where there is a Will” employed

There “always is a way”.

And all these jovial Henrys

Have helped to make a happy time

Though with this word of Henry

‘Tis hard to find a word to rhyme.

And they who bear the name of John

With all the Eddies which around us run

Have each a pleasure garment on,

And as the boys say, are having “Lots of fun”

And we are very Frank to say

We Don’t mind it if they do,

They have the privilege to-day

Their jovial plans to carry through.

And while around the house they stray

A little caution should be shown,

And sign like this we might display,

“Be careful of the corner Stone”

And when you hear the sweet Mabel,

O wander not too far away,

For all this gladness seems to tell

That Beulah fair is near to-day

The very air is full of Grace

We feel that influence every where,

And smiles which rest on every face

Proclaim the banishment of care,

And now in mercy to you all

I’ll close this ever rambling strain

Which, much I fear, you’ll justly call

The creaking's of a cranky brain.