Black and white faces on the page—
Their solemn eyes stare into mine.
Ancestors from a different age
Are calling me through space and time.
Oh, what are held in dusty faces
Behind the stern and fixed stare?
What lies beneath the frills and laces
Of fancy gowns the women wear?
Their lives could not be simply names
And dates and places of the past.
The stories of these men and dames
Will live again—be told at last.