Not Just a Photograph

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.