My beautiful, gentle, artistic Grandaunt. Lucy was the daughter of W.H. 'Harry' England and Mary Zelicka Connell. She was named for Lucy Kirby, wife of Miles Kirby. The couple raised Lucy's father from the time he was about 10.
Lucy was a gifted artist and as a young woman taught art at the Springfield Collegiate Academy. Water colors were her specialty. On December 1, 1885, Lucy was married to Robert Bell. Sadly, he died just four years later.
In November, 1895 Lucy married John Dempsey Sharp of Nashville, who was Sheriff of Davidson County at the time. She never had any children.
After John's death in 1929, Lucy returned to Springfield, where she lived with her sister, Jennie, until her death in 1941. She was apparently a budding poet as well as an artist, penning this little verse to her 6 year old grand-niece, Linda, in 1932. It was published in a local newspaper.
To 'Linda' in Church
You sit so still here in the church,
In that you do not differ much
From her, nor do you criticize
The preacher's word, you look so wise.
You never think to look away,
Not liking what he has to say.
You sit so still here in the church,
Here on your bench, nor differ much,
From her except that 'Mary dear'
Sits in a stained glass window here.
...and nine years later, just before her death, she wrote to Linda again on the occasion of her first dance.
To 'Linda' at the Dance - Caution
'Twas at a dance, thats how it came
Into my heart, a little flame.
'Twas at a dance, on pleasure bent
And nothing more at all was meant.
On with the dance, beyond my sight
I see you yet, as on that night.
Over the dance, and then you went,
And that was all, was all you meant.
But you forgot and left the flame
You started on the night you came.
And it has grown to such extent,
So far beyond the thing we meant.
No more I dance, I must confess,
A spark might fall on that red dress.
Lucy was a gifted artist and as a young woman taught art at the Springfield Collegiate Academy. Water colors were her specialty. On December 1, 1885, Lucy was married to Robert Bell. Sadly, he died just four years later.
In November, 1895 Lucy married John Dempsey Sharp of Nashville, who was Sheriff of Davidson County at the time. She never had any children.
After John's death in 1929, Lucy returned to Springfield, where she lived with her sister, Jennie, until her death in 1941. She was apparently a budding poet as well as an artist, penning this little verse to her 6 year old grand-niece, Linda, in 1932. It was published in a local newspaper.
To 'Linda' in Church
You sit so still here in the church,
In that you do not differ much
From her, nor do you criticize
The preacher's word, you look so wise.
You never think to look away,
Not liking what he has to say.
You sit so still here in the church,
Here on your bench, nor differ much,
From her except that 'Mary dear'
Sits in a stained glass window here.
...and nine years later, just before her death, she wrote to Linda again on the occasion of her first dance.
To 'Linda' at the Dance - Caution
'Twas at a dance, thats how it came
Into my heart, a little flame.
'Twas at a dance, on pleasure bent
And nothing more at all was meant.
On with the dance, beyond my sight
I see you yet, as on that night.
Over the dance, and then you went,
And that was all, was all you meant.
But you forgot and left the flame
You started on the night you came.
And it has grown to such extent,
So far beyond the thing we meant.
No more I dance, I must confess,
A spark might fall on that red dress.
My beautiful, gentle, artistic Grandaunt. Lucy was the daughter of W.H. 'Harry' England and Mary Zelicka Connell. She was named for Lucy Kirby, wife of Miles Kirby. The couple raised Lucy's father from the time he was about 10.
Lucy was a gifted artist and as a young woman taught art at the Springfield Collegiate Academy. Water colors were her specialty. On December 1, 1885, Lucy was married to Robert Bell. Sadly, he died just four years later.
In November, 1895 Lucy married John Dempsey Sharp of Nashville, who was Sheriff of Davidson County at the time. She never had any children.
After John's death in 1929, Lucy returned to Springfield, where she lived with her sister, Jennie, until her death in 1941. She was apparently a budding poet as well as an artist, penning this little verse to her 6 year old grand-niece, Linda, in 1932. It was published in a local newspaper.
To 'Linda' in Church
You sit so still here in the church,
In that you do not differ much
From her, nor do you criticize
The preacher's word, you look so wise.
You never think to look away,
Not liking what he has to say.
You sit so still here in the church,
Here on your bench, nor differ much,
From her except that 'Mary dear'
Sits in a stained glass window here.
...and nine years later, just before her death, she wrote to Linda again on the occasion of her first dance.
To 'Linda' at the Dance - Caution
'Twas at a dance, thats how it came
Into my heart, a little flame.
'Twas at a dance, on pleasure bent
And nothing more at all was meant.
On with the dance, beyond my sight
I see you yet, as on that night.
Over the dance, and then you went,
And that was all, was all you meant.
But you forgot and left the flame
You started on the night you came.
And it has grown to such extent,
So far beyond the thing we meant.
No more I dance, I must confess,
A spark might fall on that red dress.
Lucy was a gifted artist and as a young woman taught art at the Springfield Collegiate Academy. Water colors were her specialty. On December 1, 1885, Lucy was married to Robert Bell. Sadly, he died just four years later.
In November, 1895 Lucy married John Dempsey Sharp of Nashville, who was Sheriff of Davidson County at the time. She never had any children.
After John's death in 1929, Lucy returned to Springfield, where she lived with her sister, Jennie, until her death in 1941. She was apparently a budding poet as well as an artist, penning this little verse to her 6 year old grand-niece, Linda, in 1932. It was published in a local newspaper.
To 'Linda' in Church
You sit so still here in the church,
In that you do not differ much
From her, nor do you criticize
The preacher's word, you look so wise.
You never think to look away,
Not liking what he has to say.
You sit so still here in the church,
Here on your bench, nor differ much,
From her except that 'Mary dear'
Sits in a stained glass window here.
...and nine years later, just before her death, she wrote to Linda again on the occasion of her first dance.
To 'Linda' at the Dance - Caution
'Twas at a dance, thats how it came
Into my heart, a little flame.
'Twas at a dance, on pleasure bent
And nothing more at all was meant.
On with the dance, beyond my sight
I see you yet, as on that night.
Over the dance, and then you went,
And that was all, was all you meant.
But you forgot and left the flame
You started on the night you came.
And it has grown to such extent,
So far beyond the thing we meant.
No more I dance, I must confess,
A spark might fall on that red dress.
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