-2- Somebody labored years ago Whose name I do not even know, Ploughed ground, or sailed the open sea, And loved a maid that I could be. Two centuries or more ago A woman at a Scottish door? Looked fondly at a lilac tree And passed that bit of pride to me0 One stood enraptured, when he heard The music of a singing bird, And now with each returning spring I find I do the self same thingo Could we untangle all our lives And learn how much in it survives, We might discover just how far Goes back, what makes us what we are* Edgar A„ Guest