Of words, which teaching you did give so free
To those your students, discovering fresh
The worlds, adventures, dreams on printed leaves,
Coursing old paths across broad waters deep,
Through passions, wars, intrigues, and minds of men,
Over beside the stream of time and change,
There are not now enough to speak to your
Colossal soul, poured out in many acts
Of true, complete, and patient sacrifice,
Self-deprecation, self-forgetfulness,
For children, husband, home, to be woman
Whose life bold printed on eternal page
Tells stories no less epic and complete,
Odysseys no less courageous and long,
Than the longsuffering son of Laertes,
No less sweet than Orfeo’s winsome tune,
As gracious as Valjean’s forgiving hand,
Your life’s great work, far greater than these works,
Or any written long before or since,
Echoes in branches of your family’s tree,
Sounding love, your children for each other,
And faith, though faith was sometimes hard to find,
Like that good father, “help my unbelief!”
You cried, your church had turned its back and cast
Your husband and yourself on the wayside,
And yet you persisted, covered by great grace
To seek God’s face despite the trials you knew
And find anew sweet rest in His designs,
Who knew! Girl from Scottdale Pennsylvania,
From early age half-orphaned and without
A mother’s warm embrace, you grew in grace
Seasoned with sharpest intellect and fire
To seek, to know, to read, to grow, to find,
You sang and danced your way into the heart
Of dashing husband, man made of strong mind,
Promising a missionary life, he,
And you, set out together to reap souls
In these confusing, weary, latter-days,
But found that other paths before you lay
And took to teaching, him his history
And you your literature, your words and books,
Now children in the wings, now house new built,
Now debt, now hardship, now sorrow, now pain,
The difficult years went, and new ones came,
Slowly, but gently, like buds on a branch
Which, waiting through the frosts innumerable
Suddenly, at hour inexplicable,
Reveal the fruit of patience, and sweetly
Bloom, the wisdom of longsuffering shown true
In blossoms bearing scents of Spring aloft,
So too, the patience born in long, hard years
Bloomed into love steadfast and true at end
Of husband’s life – now yours is here, and see
How love which bloomed through you has borne in these
Your children a love for one another, and for you
Which, like the leaves of Spring, are not shaken,
Despite the storms of life which do not cease,
Though now you go to know the single place
Where all is rest, all grace, all sight, all peace.

Love borne in patience has much patience wrought,
For to the end, you have the good fight fought.