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 ---

Lines by Nathaniel Healy

I found this poem apparently copied by my great-great Aunt, Evalina (Nellie) Richardson Thompson. In her early years she had very tiny and distinctive handwriting. The poem is entitled Lines by Nathaniel Healy and is either written by her grandfather Nathaniel Healy or her uncle, Nathaniel Church Healy. If the former, it was written before he passed away in 1841; if the latter, before 1874 when he passed away while in London, England. Both Nathaniel Sr. & Jr. were Universalist in their Christian beliefs while other family members were strong Congregationalists including their son and brother Joseph Warren Healy who was a Congregational Minister as well as a physician and an educator. They must have had some very interesting dinner conversations!

Lines by Nathaniel Healy


When people to their end are brought
And hope of life forsakes them
If reason hold they’ll stretch a thought
Where death will likely take them..
As hope or fear preponderate
So they drew their conclusion
And hence from reason form their faith
Or else from strong delusion.

The curious world do eager wait
To catch their last expression
And argue thence their final state
On their death bed profession.
But if this dogma prove correct
Which common sense would distance
Infallible ‘Twould prove each set
That ever had existence.

For any age where was the sect
But died with [faith] unshaken
And were their systems all correct
Or else were all mistaken.
They each have persecution caught
Or of it have partaken
From worshipper of Juggernaut
Down to the humble Quaker.

They have been tortured, burned or maimed
And hanged and whipped and banished
Yet of their faith were not ashamed
And every fear had vanished
With facts like these before my eyes
I’ve come to this decision
That all we know beyond this state
We’ve learned from tradition


If any should my faith inquire
When I in death shall falter
I think if reason doth remain
My faith will never alter.
I have a hope of future life
And think all will enjoy it
But know not when or how or where
Or how we shall employ it.

I think that Pain, Disease and Death
By which we are amazed
Were all created here in time
Of course must be destroyed.
When we immortal shall be raised
And changed to incorruption
Our happiness will be complete
And know no interruption.

Musings by Nathaniel Healy on the Death of his Brother Samuel Healy

At the top of this poem is written, "Copy of a letter from Nathaniel Healy to his friends on the death of his brother Samuel"


Haverhill, NH
Sept 18th 1807*

I to the office came this eve
A letter here I do receive
Whose contents causes me to grieve
Though welcome information
My brother’s dead a solemn sound
What words more painful can be found
He’s dead and buried in the ground
Where he must turn to dust
God’s ways are equal he is just
Though he take our relation

Though he was active brave and smart
Death’s haggard arrow pierced his heart
‘Twas far beyond the Surgeon’s art
To give him respiration
Yet though the grave his body binds
And death his active limbs confine
We trust in glory still he shines
Nor does know grief or woe
Or any pain he felt below
How blest his situation

My reason bids me not to weep
Faith says Death’s not an endless sleep
This glorious hope my soul does keep
From bitter lamentation
By Charity I am inclined
To think that he with all mankind
Will be so happy as to find
That reward which was stored
In Heaven’s archives by the Lord
Before the worlds foundation

Let thoughts like these dry up each tear
Our grief assuage our bosoms cheer
He now in Heaven does appear
How blest his situation
We all believe this is the case
And that the time rolls on apace
When we again shall him embrace
There remain free from pain
Nor shall we ever part again
Or know a separation.

My sister Lydia well I know
This is to you a heavy blow
It fills your soul with grief and woe
And sad solemnization
The frailty of our race we see
Not long ago he seemed to be
As healthy and robust as we
Now grim Death takes his breath
And he a lifeless corpse is left
The grave is now his station

Methinks in tears I hear you say
I’ve lost my comfort and my stay
My Partner dear has turned to clay
How sad a dispensation
Where ‘ere my weeping eyes I place
I there behold his empty space
No more on earth I see his face
None can guess my distress
I bid adieu to happiness
Till I again embrace him

Cease my dear sister to lament
Had you a life of hatred spent
This would your sorrow much augment
And be an aggravation
If you to quarrel were inclined
Or if you treated him unkind
A cause for mourning there you’d find
But you know, ‘twas not so
Your heart was ready to bestow
Relief on each occasion

Why should we murmur or complain
That he has left this world of pain
And has gone home with Christ to reign
To reign throughout duration
Though we with tears bedew his urn
We would not wish him to return
From seraphs which adore and burn
Where his mind is refined
Far more than those who are left behind
Of any sect or nation

My parents dear I you address
My soul does feel for your distress
In pangs too poignant to express
On this most sad occasion
Though you in age are called to mourn
The loss of one whom you have borne
Whom death has lately from you torn
Do not grieve but believe
God has a right him to receive
He lends us our relations

Though of a child you are bereft
Which like a limb was from you cleft
Remember you’ve eleven left
In healthful situation
Though you have lost a hopeful son
Yet he of six is only one
Whose labors o’re whose work is done
He is not dead only fled
To Jesus Christ our living head
There to receive Salvation

When Hannah for a son did sigh
Remind her partner’s kind reply
Far better than two sons am I
The nearest of relations
God does you each to other spare
Your woes in union you can bear
Your mutual joys together share
There we find God is kind
We yet have blessings left behind
Suppressing calculation

His character death chose to place
Beyond the reach of foul disgrace
Where slander daren’t show his face
And vice can never enter
From Virtue he on earth could fall
The sphere he moved in was too small
His maker him vouchsafes to call
To that good where his soul
Did aim as magnet to the pole
Or matter to the center

My brothers and my sisters all
This is to us a solemn call
‘Mongst old and gray, great and small
Death spreadeth devastation
We to the level must be brought
The plumb must try each act and thought
How diligently then we ought
To prepare since we are
To come to that all trying square
Which knows no deviation

May wisdom from the East direct
The West to strengthen and protect
May Beauty cover each defect
By speedy reformation
That when the Angel’s trump shall sound
To call the dead from underground
We may be tried and worthy found
To be blessed with the rest
Which Paul in Beauty has expressed
Unto the Hebrew nation

Nathaniel Healy

*Most geneologies have Samuel listed as having died on September 30th of that year. So I do not know whether the person who copied this (which I believe was Evalina Richardson Thompson from the handwriting) wrote the wrong month or if he died rather the end of August instead of September. I haven't seen documentation for date yet but will attempt to ascertain that in the future. This Nathaniel Healy was born July 10, 1785, married Jane Tabor a few months after this was written, and died on 19 Feb 1841. Samuel was born 11 June 1783 and so was two years older than Nathaniel. Samuel's wife in various family histories is reported as Lydia Barker and this poem confirms that his wife's name was Lydia. It also confirms the number of children of their parents, John Healy and Mary Wight. They actually had a total of 13 children, but one, a girl, Katherine, had died nine years earlier in 1789 at 34 years of age.

Unexpected Christmas Gift - 180 Year Old Letter

I had the unexpected pleasure of coming across this letter today. A young girl, niece of my G-G-G-Great Grandfather Nathaniel Healy was writing her first letter to him after the death of his brother, her father, John Healy. After reading this I feel, well, a bit uneducated and illiterate. Obviously Nathaniel Healy was impressed with this letter as well since he retained it, passed it on in the family, and it has surfaced here again 180 years later. Her handwriting is small, an example of elegant cursive almost lost today.

Dear uncle –
Since I have seated myself to address you, the most singular emotions have, unlicensed, taken possession of my bosom. They crowd into my mind unbidden and I have almost said unwelcome. Past occurrences bear no more resemblance to reality than does midnight to noonday the present itself a dream, and futurity omens the same disappointments. I cannot think you and my father were nursed upon the same lap, encircled by the same maternal arms. It looks impossible. And but for the hope of recovering my reason as I advance, I should be unable to proceed. I am, however, far from wondering at this sudden commotion of my mind, considering the various circumstances that agitate it. Conversing with one whom I have never seen or spoken with, one who lives at such a distance and what is still more absurd, one perhaps that is totally ignorant and unmindful of such a person as myself. I have heard of uncle Nathaniel Healy so have I heard of Mithridates, and Pompey that destroyed him, and Caesar that overthrew Pompey and Brutus that slew Caesar and probably had they lived in my day I should have been curious to see them, and what of that? Who would not, but this does not prove that they would have regarded me. Oh! but my uncle does not possess the wicked heart of Mithridates nor the presentation of Pompey, the ambition of Caesar or the sword of Brutus which have conspired to render them famous more than their virtues. I did not find this name upon the bloodstained page of history. The name of my uncle first sounded in my ear when playing on the knee of my Father, fondly pronounced by him and has never since failed to cast a spell upon my senses for how can that which was dear to him be otherwise than dear to me. Then since I have overcome part of my skepticism I will proceed to say your relatives are all tolerably well in this place, the connection is extensive and I cannot write particularly. Uncle Eben Healy visits us quite often, he is an excellent man and Aunt Eliza Killum [Killow or Killim also options] lives on his farm 1/a a mile, I think they must value each the other’s society highly. My mother wishes to be remembered, she remembers you with much pleasure and thinks the distance is not so great but you might visit us. My two older sisters are married, have two children each. Sister Mary the oldest wrote you immediately after the death of my brother, five years this summer, but received no answer (I hope mine will have better fortune). Sister Sally lives in Auburn eight miles from us. Brother John was married last March. Jesse is younger than myself, he is seventeen. Betsy is next in age to John, her health is not good nor has it been for two years. Hannah is the youngest of the family. So, uncle, I am bless’d with a mother, sisters and brothers, but the early bereavement of my father bids me not think them immortal, for I am sensible a great deal of pleasure has flown with him. Then every flower I beheld promised pleasure when I should restore it to the hand of my father, the crimson strawberries, the first mellow fruit that summer showered into my basket was always carried in haste to him. Now May’s roses pine neglected on the stem and seem to wonder as the retarded hand which over gathered them with so much alertness. But why gather roses since he for whom they were culled in [illegible] of me. My father too was the first who disclosed to me the fair pages of science and now I turn the leaves but slowly. I have, dear uncle, sometimes been so sensible of my loss that life seems almost divested of every charm. At other times when beholding the ungenerous world, I would not have him again witness its unkindness even if a wish were the pledge of his return. Please to remember me to your family together with my brothers and sisters. I must conclude my letter by begging of you to answer it as soon as possible. And now uncle I have a [illegible] album and although I have no claim upon your practical talents, yet I must request of you one verse of your own composition to insert therein.
Do uncle send it in my letter and you will confer the greatest favour possible upon --------
Your affectionate niece
(Dolly Healy)

Nathaniel Healy
Elbridge
Aug 31, 1828
PS Do write minutely respecting yourself and family, DH