Just thought I would share, hope you enjoy as much as I did.
Good luck,
Louise Bryant Rogers
>
> > > CENSUS TAKER
> > >
> > > It was the first day of census, and all through the land;
> > > The pollster was ready ... a black book in hand.
> > > He mounted his horse for a long dusty ride;
> > > His book and some quills were tucked close by his side.
> > >
> > > A long winding ride down a road barely there;
> > > Toward the smell of fresh bread wafting, up through the air.
> > > The woman was tired, with lines on her face;
> > > And wisps of brown hair she tucked back into place.
> > >
> > > She gave him some water ... as they sat at the table;
> > > And she answered his questions ... the best she was able.
> > > He asked of her children... Yes, she had quite a few;
> > > The oldest was twenty, the youngest not two.
> > >
> > > She held up a toddler with cheeks round and red;
> > > His sister, she whispered, was napping in bed.
> > > She noted each person who lived there with pride;
> > > And she felt the faint stirrings of the wee one inside.
> > >
> > > He noted the sex, the color, the age...
> > > The marks from the quill soon filled up the page.
> > > At the number of children, she nodded her head;
> > > And saw her lips quiver for the three that were dead.
> > >
> > > The places of birth she "never forgot";
> > > Was it Kansas? or Utah? or Oregon ... or not?
> > > They came from Scotland, of that she was clear;
> > > But she wasn't quite sure just how long they'd been here.
> > >
> > > They spoke of employment, of schooling and such;
> > > They could read some and write some .. though really not much.
> > > When the questions were answered, his job there was done;
> > > So he mounted his horse and he rode toward the sun.
> > >
> > > We can almost imagine his voice loud and clear;
> > > "May God bless you all for another ten years."
> > >
> > > Now picture a time warp ... its' now you and me;
> > > As we search for the people on our family tree.
> > >
> > > We squint at the census and scroll down so slow;
> > > As we search for that entry from long, long ago.
> > > Could they only imagine on that long ago day;
> > > That the entries they made would effect us this way?
> > >
> > > If they knew, would they wonder at the yearning we feel;
> > > And the searching that makes them so increasingly real.
> > > We can hear if we listen the words they impart;
> > > Through their blood in our veins and their voice in our heart.
> > >
> > > Author Unknown