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Introductory Material:
Preface
Chapter 1
The Edwards Coat of Arms

Family Records:
John 1
John 2
John 3
Richard 3
Jonathan 3
Samuel 3
Nathaniel 3
William 3

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Edwards and the Civil War
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Our Immigrant Ancestors
1906 Census

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Mayberry Hill Chronicles
This Old House
Justin Edwards had a Farm
Letters from Henry

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Occupation: Commercial Traveller

There were no children.

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Poems by Eugene Mason Edwards

April

O month of mist and sullen skies
I do not like your dreary days.
From rocking earth dull vapors rise,
And Sol withholds his cheering rays.
I lie in bed and loathe the gloom
That each succeeding morn is bringing
What's this! Sunshine in my room
Outside a robin singing.

Yesterdays

They come no more, those golden days,
With Youth so fair and Love so true;
Dawn's Dewey freshness, and the rays
Of summer sunshine thro' the haze
Revealing beauties new.

We hail no more the joyous throng
We met of old in field and street.
We miss the handsclasp fond and strong
That friendship tried, and leal, and long,
Once gave with trust complete.

No more in sweet profusion bloom
The flowers that grew along our way,
In schooldays, when their glad perfume
Stole in and filled the old schoolroom
With scent of blossoming May.

Our faith is clouded by distrust,
We tread familiar paths alone,
Our olden treasures spoiled by rust
Our idols broken, in the dust
Our cherished fancies flown.

Held by the sense's selfish thrall
Unjust, impatient, murmuring.
We strive for pleasures past recall,
And close against the mystic wall
Sigh for eternal spring.

They come no more, our yesterdays,
With Youth and Hope in sunshine set;
But Love still walks thro' flowery ways,
And fresh, glad voices sing fond lays
Untangled with regret.

Love and Fame

She loved the simple joys of life,
The song of birds in shelt'ring trees,
The garden space with blossoms rife,
All nature's blending harmonies.

She wed a giant Atlas tasked,
A Titan towering stern and grim
Above the listless throng that basked
In sunshine never sought by him.

She laughed with joy o'er household cares,
Yet let no rippling note intrude
Upon the problems and affairs,
The creatures of his solitude.

He delved among the age worn deeps,
Or toiled up mountain heights afar,
And the great world his treasure keeps--
She watched till dawn a distant star.

He woke at dawn with triumph filled
To find his hope, his light of life,
Gone with the heartbeat softly stilled
Within the bosom of his wife.

'Whelmed by a might grief he bends
In anguished yearning over her.
Too late alas the man transcends,
The prophet and philosopher.

* * * * *

But oh the love that mutely pleads,
The heart's sweet longing and distress,
Or finds the guerdon of its needs
In alien haunts of restfulness.

And oh the fame so coldly traced
In marble carved by unknown hands,
A monolith mid deserts waste
Half hidden by Time's shifting sands.

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