Archive for January 2012

To A Little Flower   Leave a comment

Above:  Scene from a Flower Market

Image Source = Bill Whitaker



Oh! how dost thou cling so firm to my heart?

What hand give thee such magical power?

By all other beings, but Johnny, thou art

Esteemed as a worthless, mean, faded flower.


It is because in youth’s beauty and strength

Thou wert clothed in a mantle so lovely and fair,

And when thy sweet lips opened at length,

Thy breath rose in sweet perfumes on the air?


No, thou wert dead when first I beheld thee,

I do not esteem thy beauties by nature–

‘Tis cause the being whose little hand pulled thee,

Implanted her image on thine every feature.


Yes, dear, to my heart is thy frail little form,

Tho’ now it is crushed by the tooth of decay,

Thou hast kindled in me a friendship so warm

The cold damps of time cannot take it away.


Thy frail little hand hast indelibly written

A name deep, and clear, on memory’s scroll;

And tho’ all else on earth be forgotten,

That name to this heart shall never grow old.


Posted January 24, 2012 by neatnik2009 in John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems, Love 1800s

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“Man’s Chief End is to Glorify God.”   Leave a comment

Above:  Seal of the Presbyterian Church in the United States (1861-1983), My Great-Grandfather’s Denomination

FYI:  “Lux lucet in tenebris” is Latin for “The light shines in the darkness.”


All I have here, Father, take it,

Make thy praise my highest aim;

If I’ve talent, Father, make it

Work some honor to Thy name.


May not idleness abuse it,

But a zealous spirit lend;

Yet forbid that I should use it

For a low and menial end.


Fearful is the charge intrusted,

Much I know Thou wilt require,

And if Thou shouldst find it rusted,

How shall I escape Thine ire?


Or if used in fortune’s chase,

Or of fame–but fleeting foam–

We’ll dread Thine awful face

When in vengeance Thou shalt come.


Poems Regarding Marriage   Leave a comment

Above:  Wedding Rings

Image Source = Jeff Belmonte




In all concerns and cares of life,

Men should always take care;

“He takes a care who takes a wife,”–FRANKLIN.

Therefore, we all should pair.



If life indeed is what it seems,

‘Tis more than one can carry;

So I think all should double teams,

Or, speaking plainer, marry.



Had rings perception, and the power,

Their ken with words to mate,

Full many a sweet-heart should grow sour

At tales they could relate.



A poor woman can

Even wed a rich man,

And yet live happy and well;

But woe’s the poor human

Who weds a rich woman,

For the wedding is the door to his hell.





Unlike my great-grandfather, I am a confirmed bachelor.  So there is a certain irony inherent the fact that I am posting some of these poems.  C’est la vie.



Posted January 19, 2012 by neatnik2009 in John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems, Love 1800s

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Epitaph on Mrs. _____   2 comments

Above:  A Church Graveyard

Image Source = Wikipedia

Calm, peaceful, sweet, from cares all free,

Wife, mother, be thy resting here.

A husband’s heart still beats for thee

And children hold thy memory dear.


But few more dreary years shall glide

O’er our, now lone, deserted home,

And we’ll meet thee beyond the tide,

Where death and partings never come.


Posted January 16, 2012 by neatnik2009 in Death and/or Grief, John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems

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Thoughts from the Twelfth Chapter of Ecclesiastes   1 comment

Above:  Family Bible

Image Source = David Ball


Remember thy Creator

In youth’s bright, sunny day;

Ere age shall come with sorrow,

And take thy joys away.


Ere sun and moon be darkened,

And stars forbear to shine;

Ere clouds of doubt shall hover

And cares distract thy min’–


The strong shall bow themselves

The mighty and the great

The voice of joy be silenced

And all be desolate,


For when the cord is loosed

And broke the golden bowl,

Then dust to dust returneth

To God the living soul.


Posted January 11, 2012 by neatnik2009 in John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems

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True Love   Leave a comment

Above:  Flower Bouquet

True Love is the fairest, and sweetest of flowers

That adorn life’s pathway through this earthly sphere;

And if it e’er bloom in these cold hearts of ours,

It is God’s own hand that planteth it there.


Its fassion seems frail, but its root pierces deep,

And winds its strong arm ‘neath the depth of our hearts;

Tho’ cold stormy blasts oft make it to weep,

A ray from its sun new vigor imparts.


Misfortune, and sorrow, in torrents may rain;

Adversity’s frosts with destruction may fall;

And poverty’s blasts will blow but in vain,

For its weakness is greatness compared to them all.


But for Love, like the lover, there’s often an end;

Tho’ while it survives it can never grow old,

Yet when it is blighted it lives not again,

Except as a ghost it haunteth the soul.


And oft on the mind recollection will steal;

Those scenes once so dear will rise to the sight.

And in the far distance sad anthems will peal,

And the notes of a seraph that has taken its flight.


Posted January 3, 2012 by neatnik2009 in John Dodson Taylor Sr.--Poems, Love 1800s

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