My Quaker Grandmothers

Like two little doves in gray   On the boughs of a greenwood tree, My two Quaker grandmothers sit   In my gay genealogy. The Cavalier struts in my heart,   The Puritan tugs at my will, But the Quaker faces say “Peace,”   And passion and pride are still. Dear faces of infinite calm,   Ye have wrought a spell in my blood That maketh the world seem wise   And sweet with the sunshine of God.