I have always loved poetry, both reading and writing it. I composed many a poem, as a kid, and wrote each one out in one of three books that I had made myself. I have no clue where those books are now, probably collecting dust in the deep recesses of the attic.
On Thanksgiving Day of this year, when all of our extended family was gathered together, one of my aunts brought out a very old notebook filled with poetry. It was all handwritten in old (but not too faded) ink. She had found this treasure when she had moved into her house years ago. The house was an old one and had been passed to her by preceding generations. The poetry was that of her great grandmother, or my great-great grandmother.
Her name was Marie Louise Smith Edgar (1851-1946) and her story absolutely inspires me. The original poems were transcribed, by a cousin, into a typed booklet which was distributed to family members. This is a quote from the "Transcriber's Notes" at the beginning of the booklet:
"During her days in South Louisiana, Marie Louise washed the family's clothes using a perforated bucket that would be swished through a larger tub, the equivalent of today's washing machine agitator. It was during these otherwise boring times her thoughts turned to her poetry which she would record on a nearby table."
I love that in her daily duties, (Which were no doubt much greater than mine!) she still made the effort to be creative and even share her gifts with others. She had five children, was a private tutor and taught piano. She grew vegetables, grapes, fruit trees and flowers. She even enjoyed crocheting, tatting and raising canaries! Talk about a creative life!
Many of the poems reflect her strong faith and her admiration for the beauty of the bayous, live oaks and wildlife of her southern Louisiana surroundings. Below is one of her poems:
Someone
When the sun is sinking
Slowly in the west
When the birds are flying
O’er the waves to rest
Someone stands waiting
In a cottage door
Hushing all but heartbeat
Listening for an oar.
Someone’s rowing homeward
To that little nest
Someone’s longing longing
For it’s peace and rest
Someone soon will gladden
At a glistening oar
Someone soon be clasping
Someone in the door.
And here is a scan of the original poem. I don't know why, but it gives me such a thrill to turn the yellowed, cracking pages and examine closely the delicate penmanship. (My aunt allowed me to very carefully scan the entire original notebook for the sake of posterity.) I'll share more of Marie Louise's story and poetry in the future.
