DeWitt and Mary Collingwood
Today my thoughts revert to the past
To the days that have gone by and flown;
The days of my childhood fond memories last
Of father and mother and home
I think of a home surrounded by trees,
Nestled close at the foot of the hill.
I think of the flowers stirred by each summer breeze
Sown by hands now silent and still.
The home that was built by the Collingwood clan-
Grandsire of this gathering here.
We've heard of him much as a kind, Christian man,
And to us memories of him ere dear.
Eight children were reared in his home in the vale-
The Collingwood clan of today-
By father and mother, whose strength did not fail,
And whose hand guided each on his way.
To our grandmother, were she with us today,
We would offer our tribute and praise.
God called her - she left us to go on our way.
Her goodness we remembered always.
This family she reared is now scattered and gone;
One beneath the green sod lies asleep;
Two turned faces west toward the setting sun.
They're not with us to-day, we regret.
Their daughters and sons, now themselves far from young.
Each provided a home of his own,
And out of those homes this gathering was sprung,
Most to manhood and womanhood grown.
And are raising their own little broods,
And living and working for their daily bread,
And thankful that God has been good.
So, from two pioneers, who long years ago
Built the home that sheltered their young.
Who loved, loved and worked thru such hardship and woe,
Are the fountain from which we have sprung.
And reverence it always, we must.
It may never be crowned with honor and fame.
But let it not be dragged in the dust.
Could DeWitt Clinton and Margaret Jane,
To whom we pay tribute to-day,
Be in our midst, would theirs be the gain -
For this we hope fondly and pray.
The years are fast going, we're all growing old.
Are we doing each day that goes by
Some little good and not merely dreaming
Of great things to do by and by?
So you who are of the Collingwood name
and belong to the gathering here,
Make the best of your lives and meet us again
At this place the following year.
Composed by Rose Estelle Collingwood Nall
Great granddaughter of Charles Collingwood