A POEM ABOUT THE PEOPLE OF STOCKBRIDGE
And some of them lived on the hill;
'Twas argued the hill air was purer,
But the river farm better to till,
The Sawyers, the Taggarts and Joneses,
The Goddards, the Hunts and the rest,
Tho' admitting some claims to the river,
Insisted the hill homes were best.
They loved the view from the mountains,
Had no interest in the land that was flat,
A fine place to bring up the children,
No doubt in the world about that.
"No fog from the river to choke us,
No germs that the valley infest;
Better crops, finer fruit, sweeter pasture,"
Said the Sawyers, the Hunts and the rest.
The Blackmers, the Wilsons, the Wymans,
The Smiths, and the Kimballs, and Gays,
Their livelihood won on the river,
In sundry and various ways.
"Near the school and the church" said the Kimballs,
"And the stores and the mills, don't you see
The valley's the place for our children?
A better place never could be.
"'Tis a trial throughout the long winter,
To plow snow from the roads up above;
In sickness a doctor might never
Make his way there for money or love."
Good neighbors they were to each other;
But they argued the thing with a will;
Some of them sang of the river,
And some of them sang of the hill.
There's a sweet, quiet place "up at Ranney's"
Mount Pleasant, 'twas named long ago,
Far down the road from the hillcrest,
But well up from the broad rivers flow.
Fence-enclosed, and surrounded by maples,
Each plot bears a name that is dear,
'Tis here that old memories waken,
And faces long gone reappear.
"Tis here those old neighbors are garnered,
From hilltop and riverside fair;
A compromise all have agreed on,
A blest spot, their children declare.
And here they all slumber together,
Keeping tryst through the years long and still.
Some of them came from the river,
And some of them came from the hill.
By Lillian Knowlton Greene.
E-mail Stockbridge, VT Town Coordinator: Barb Vellturo
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