Howison Homestead
Stephen Howison I
1736 - 1815
Stephen Howison III
1776 - 1862
"The Graves of the dead who rest from their labors."
Donated by the Howison Family 1991
? ? ? ? ? ? The Home of my Childhood.
How dear to my thought is the place of my childhood
? ? ? ? ?It once was my father's, but now it is mine
Just under the lee of the Northwestern wildwood
? ? ? ? ?Where mother milked cows and father fed swine.
No fashion or style e'er the building attended
? ? ? ? ?But sheltered with strong oak of the best
The short winding staircase so easy ascended
? ? ? ? ?The sliding plank window that looked to the West.
Here I when a child was protected from danger
? ? ? ? ?Here I in my youth was accustomed to roam
Here often my parents have sheltered the stranger
? ? ? ? ?And treated the traveler far from his home.
There stand in the yard the patriarch cherry
? ? ? ? ?Where oft I have sat in the shade of the tree
Where mother with butter and milk from the dairy
? ? ? ? ?Has feasted my sisters, my brothers and me.
The trees of red pears in the garden still standing
? ? ? ? ?Spread over the lilac and cover the rose
Still bearing their fruit and their branches expanding
? ? ? ? ?Shade o'er the green turf for a place of repose.
The trees of the orchard by storms have been broken
? ? ? ? ?And many have mouldered and gone to decay
Yet, some of the strongest remain as a token
? ? ? ? ?The marks of antiquity still to display.
The mossy old spring where I often have rested
? ? ? ? ?When father and I had wrought at the plough
The bunch of green brambles where chickens have nested
? ? ? ? ?Were there in past ages and still are there now.
My sister came there and I then did respect her
? ? ? ? ?Her flowing locks waving as she tript in the gale
A sip from her gourd tasted sweeter than nectar
? ? ? ? ?Before she took up and went home with the pail.
The oak at the spring whose shade has grown wider
? ? ? ? ?Whose limbs are extended, whose tops have grown tall
The hickory tree where my father pressed cider
? ? ? ? ?Still bearing and dropping its nuts in the fall.
The pine through whose branches cool breezes now fan us
? ? ? ? ?In winter a covert, in summer a shade
Have grown like the cedars of Lebanon
? ? ? ? ?And cover the fields which our fathers have made.
The graves of the dead who rest from their labors
? ? ? ? ?I visit alone in the cool of the day
For there lie my parents, relations and neighbors
? ? ? ? ?And some of my ancestors older than they.
For what the Lord gave He again hath exacted
? ? ? ? ?The souls that He gave He hath taken away
The hulls are laid here, but the kernels extracted
? ? ? ? ?Like the fruit that has fallen and gone to decay.
'Tis here I converse with my Lord and Creator
? ? ? ? ?'Tis here I remember I shortly must die
Recounting my deeds with prayer to my Maker
? ? ? ? ?While viewing the ground where I shortly must lie.
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? —S. Howison
Written by Stephen Howison, 3rd, born January 20, 1776, died March 1, 1862 "written in his twilight years."
Comments 0 comments