With humble and abject apologies to Joyce Kilmer and the poem "Trees":
1890
I know that I shall never see
The census from 1890
The census was destroyed one day
By fire and water, so they say
Missing relatives, marriage, death
All clues track’d within its breadth
I think it’s also most likely,
Up in smoke my link to royalty
So my walls of mortar and brick
Do remain; tall and strong and thick
Census’s are searched by fools like me,
But only God knows what’s in 1890.
I doubt if I will often see
ReplyDeletea poet cleverer than Le-
ah Kleylein here, whose friend I be.
You are so clever!!!!
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