I was told about this “A Poem In Your Pocket” by Lisa from a Small-Leaved Shamrock.  I went to her post here to read more.

 I have two favorite poems…both are equally wonderful.  This one was written by my 4th great grandfather Zebulon Leavenworth for his wife Margaret on their 50th wedding anniversary.

THE GOLDEN WEDDING

Fifty years through shine and shower,
fifty years, my gentle wife,
You and I have walked together,
down the rugged road of life.
From the hill of Spring we started,
and through all the Summer land,
and the fruitful Autumn country,
We have journeyed hand in hand.
We have borne the heat and burdon,
Willingly, painfully and slow,
We have gathered in our harvest,
With rejoicing long ago.
Leave the upland for our children,
they are strong to sow and reap;
Through the quiet wintery lowlands,
We our level way will keep.
‘Tis a dreary country, darling,
You and I are passing through,
But the road lies straight before us,
and the miles are short and few.
No more dangers to encounter,
no more hills to climb, true friend,
nothing now but simple walking,
till we reach our journey’s end.
We have had our time of gladness,
‘Twas a proud and happy day,
Ah! the proudest of our journey,
When we felt that we could say,
of the children God has given us,
fondly looking on the six,
Lovely women are our daughters,
And our sons are noble men.
We have had our time of sorrow,
Our time of anxious fears,
When we could not see the milestones,
Through the blindness of our tears.
In the sunny Summer country,
Far behind us, Zebbie, Thaddie,
and Marshall, too grew weary,
and we left them on the way.
Are you looking backward, Mother.
that you stumble in the snow?
I am still your guide and staff, dear,
lean your weight upon me-so.
Our road is growing narrow,
And-what is that you say?
Yes, I know your eyes are dim, dear.
But we have not lost our way.
Cheer thee, Cheer thee, faithful hearted,
just a little way before
lies the Eternal City
of the King that we adore.
I can see the shining spires,
and the King-the King, my dear;
We have served him long and humbly-
he will bless us, never fear.
Ah! The snow falls fast and heavy,
how you shiver with the cold,
let me wrap your mantle closer,
and my arm around you fold.
We are weak and faint and weary,
And the sun’s low in the west;
we have reached the gate, my darling,
Let us tarry here and rest.

I will post the second poem later this evening.  It’s a wonderful poem by my great grandfather Robert Brown.