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...