LUCINDA MATLOCK

I went to the dances at Chandlerville, 
And played snap-out at Winchester. 
One time we changed partners, 
Driving home in the moonlight of middle June, 
And then I found Davis. 
We were married and lived together for seventy years, 
Enjoying, working, raising the twelve children, 
Eight of whom we lost 
Ere I reached the age of sixty. 
I spun, I wove, I kept the house, I nursed the sick, 
I made the garden, and for holiday 
Rambled over the fields where sang the larks, 
And by Spoon River gathered many a shell, 
And many a flower and medicinal weed -- 
Shouting to the wooded hills, singing to the green valleys. 
At ninety-six I had lived enough, that is all, 
And passed to sweet repose. 
What is this I hear of sorrow and weariness, 
Anger, discontent and drooping hopes? 
Degenerate sons and daughters, 
Life is too strong for you -- 
It takes life to love Life.