Poem for Nathaniel Healy (1785-1841)

My great-great-great grandmother, Rosina Healy Richardson, wrote this poem upon the loss of her father, Nathaniel Healy, son of John and Mary (Wight) Healy. Nathaniel was born in Washington, New Hampshire on July 10, 1785 and died in Topsham, Vermont on February 11th or 19th, 1841. Nathaniel was a teacher and had taught in Haverhill, New Hampshire, South Hero, Vermont and ended his days teaching in Topsham, Vermont. He only lived to 55 years of age and his daughter, the eldest of ten children, was 33 years old when he passed away. I thought it only fitting on this memorial day to read again her words of loss and love.

While I have found the graves of MANY relatives, the burial site of Nathaniel (1841) and his wife, Jane Tabor (who died in 1870), both of whom died in Topsham, VT, remain elusive.


My Father’s Gone

Thou art dear, little spot, Oh to me thou art dear
For the ashes your bosom contains
Though no willow is placed to shed the soft tear
On the sod o’er my Father’s remains.

Though no Parian marble encircles the spot
Though no ivy entwines o’er the tomb
Still the grave of My father shall never be forgot
While the wild flowers remember to bloom

The leaf that I plucked from the grave where it grew
Is now withered, forever decayed;
So my Father has gone! But affection most true
Shall remember the spot where he’s laid

And Oh may I walk in the steps that he trod
While o’er life’s troubled ocean I roam:
With religion to cheer me I’ll look to my God
And to Heavenward I’ll look for a home.

When this last scene of life shall be acted and o’er
When the cares of existence are riven
When I leave this rough region to wander no more
May I meet my dear Father in Heaven.

R ---