Life story in poetry of Joseph Pollard (author unknown)
JOSEPH POLLARD
An honest man is God’s noblest work
These words we often hear
Experience proves beyond a doubt
This adage true and dear.
We sometimes say that so and so
Is good and genuine
To know them proves the opposite
Eight cases out of nine.
We never miss the water
Until the well is dry
Oft’ when the loved one leaves us
In silence then we sigh
And wish we could recall them
To speak one word or two
To tell them how we loved them
Because they were so true.
In a little town of Corfe Castle
Old England, Dorsetshire
Lived James and Elizabeth Pollard
For many and many a year
Six noble sons were born to them
Three daughters too were given
To decorate their little cot
And make their home a Heaven
Their family large it took some means
To keep the children fed
For this the parents planned at night
While they were asleep in bed
Among the family of boys
Was born plain “Joseph Pollard”
In the year eighteen-nineteen
On November twenty-third.
Of him our hearts doth fondly turn
The one we loved so dear
From early life to ripe old age
He’s still to us so near.
To sketch a line of that long life
Given pleasure over-flowing
Because of the reverence for his name
That in our hearts still growing.
The first few years of childhood’s hours
Were spent with home and mother
Around her heart his love entwined
She all his sobs would smother
Because of circumstances poor
His schooling was but little
A busy life to battle with
In unseen toils to struggle.
Oft’ times his father took the lad
To see the British Channel
Twas only just a little way
From their little home so humble
His young heart leaped to see the waves
With full rigged ships upon
How eagerly he watched them pass
And for a ride did long.
Then when at night in soft repose
Asleep upon his pillow
In fancied dreams he’d sail along
Upon the foaming billow.
A constant wish was in his heart
A sailor brave to be
The tempest high to ride upon
From home and land to flee.
He begged his father to let him go
And lead a sailor’s life
“Courageous son” the father said
You know not of the strife.
That seamen have to undergo
Far from their kin and home
In heavy rains and gushing winds
That make the waters foam.
The thought to have you on the sea
Would almost break my heart
To leave your peaceful happy home
With all your dear ones part
Think of the ships tossed to and fro
On water mountains high
And you in one terrific storm
With all the crew would die.
The loving parents reasoned thus
That strong desire to break
But still for sailing vessels
And foaming seas he’d ache.
They failed to quench that longing
To suit him, well they tried
To make a noble man of him
They no good thing denied.
Tis now the year of thirty-four
And Joseph past fourteen
The lad was from the country
He looked a trifle green
To leave the home and dear ones
And paddle his own canoe
Get strange board and lodgings
And look for work to do.
So in the short month of that year
James Pollard took his son
To visit some fine ship yards
And hunt for work for him
Successful was his visit
Apprentice boys were wanted
To serve a term of seven years
This was just what he wanted.
Returning home with happy heart
What pleasant news for mother
Telling of what he soon would be
A sailing vessel builder.
Fortune surely smiled on him
In that his wish was granted
Allowing such a precious chance
To get just what he wanted.
One serious thing slipped from his mind
T’was to leave his mother
Just in the period of one month
This fact he did discover.
The time went on, the bargain made
The lad shall be a builder
Serving his master seven years
A true efficient worker.
The foreman said he’d take the lad
One month or so on trial
To ascertain if he was made
Of genuine good metal.
He worked just long enough to prove
Himself an honest laborer
Before the papers all were signed
To make the boy a builder.
The first few weeks passed slowly by
He missed his mother’s meeting
And as the sun sank in the West
He longed for father’s greeting
But something new to learn each day
Kept mind and body busy
Time rolled along with rapid pace
The work seemed to get easy.
The foreman liked the boy so much
That while he learned the trade
He let the lad live with his folks
So there his home he made
Three years or more passed quickly by
Till June of Thirty seven
When sorrow came to their old home
The family was heart broken.
Their father ailed for many weeks
Then slowly sank in death
And all was gloom for many years
Around the family hearth.
A day or two before he died
He sent for Joe to come
A word with him before he went
Unto his Heavenly home.
Said he “Dear boy I had a dream
While on my bed with fever;
I saw you in a lovely place
Close by a crystal river.
The valley was so beautiful
T’was such a Heavenly sight
You looked just like an Angel
Dressed in pure linen white.”
He faithfully served the seven years
Of his apprenticeship
Then as a first class carpenter
He sailed the mighty deep.
Some visits to the West Indies
And North America
Then to the shore of Kent; and worked
For Queen Victoria.
Ship building at the Government docks
In the year of Forty four
He lived in that locality
For ten long years or more.
September twenty second, forty five
He married Mary Ann Bailey
True to each other they have lived
For half a century nearly.
In the year of Forty eight
He heard the Mormons preach
And from that very moment
For truth did always search.
On April tenth of forty nine
He first obeyed the Gospel
John Griffiths then baptized him
His joy no tongue could tell.
He soon received the Priesthood
Became a faithful Deacon
And to positions he was called
Proved true to every one.
He next became an Elder
On Sunday missions was sent
Scattered tracts of Gospel truth
To Bedford branch he went.
In the year of 1852
Over Bedford Branch presided
Was faithful to that calling
While he there resided
In the year of 1854
With wife and three small children
He left the country of his birth
To go and dwell in Zion.
They sailed across the Atlantic
On the ship called “Clara Wheeler”
The date I think it was
The 27th of November
Their voyage was a sad one
For many a good soul died
With sickness, sorrow and distress
That company was tried.
In January of Fifty Five
They arrived at big St. Louis
Remaining there a couple of years
And then their journey finished
Securing there a steady job
Some needed money made
Working on the steamboats
And vessels at his trade.
Continuing as a faithful saint
While there far in the East
He met Apostle Erastus Snow
Who ordained him a High Priest
Progressing ever onward
To duties always faithful
There he was set apart to act
As one of the High Council.
His home was always welcome
To the weary Elder’s feet
A good soft bed to rest upon
And something nice to eat.
Among the many Elders
Who at his table ate
Was Parley Pratt, the martyr
Just before he met his fate.
In June of 1857
They journeyed toward Zion
At Florence joined a company
With them they traveled on
Across the dreary barren plains
With Jacob Hoffin’s party
Enduring many hardships
Before they reached the Valley.
One circumstance we’ll here relate
It happened on the journey
A narrow escape it surely was
To some of that brave company.
Their cattle took a wild stampede
Through creeks, o’er hills and hollow
That awful plight made many think
A horrid sight would follow.
Men and women and children too
Were thrown from out the wagons
Picked up unconscious by their friends
Some perhaps were dying.
At that sad moment came the Lord
Their faith in Him ne’er failing
His blessing showered on every soul
That through the fall was ailing.
With courage fresh they traveled on
With tired limbs and bleeding
Encouraged in the happy thought
That soon they would be meeting
The relatives and friends of youre
To join dear father, mother
Unite again around the hearth
With sister and with brother.
On September twenty-second, fifty seven
They entered Salt Lake Valley
We find him faithful to the cause
A laborer in the Ministry.
Securing work from Brigham Young
Employment as a carpenter
Stayed with the job for twelve long years
An earnest steady joiner.
He settled in the Fifteenth Ward
There built himself a home
Continued safe in Zions walls
Nor from that spot to roam.
Was called to act as Teacher
And visit among the Saints
To settle all the trouble
When there were complaints.
This task performed with diligence
Till Eighteen Sixty one
When chosen to act as Counsellor
To Bishop Cunningham.
Six years went by, and then there came
A change in Ward affairs
Bishop Cunningham resigned
Which left a vacant chair.
Robert T. Burton was chosen next
As Bishop of the ward
Joseph Pollard as his First Counsellor
Progressing ever forward.
Many trials happened then
Which caused our Bishop trouble
In consequence of this fact
The counsellor’s work was double.
The ward extending larger
Its members still increasing
Gave work for those presiding
Their labors never ceasing
In 1868 the railway went to Ogden
Joseph Pollard received the job
Of bridge and station building.
Worked on through rain and snowstorms
In mud and stormy weather
Until the train reached Salt Lake
In the middle of the winter.
For 18 years he labored at
The Utah Central Railway
As a conscientious carpenter
He toiled from day to day.
Rheumatism gave him trouble
Through all his later years
At times his suffering was intense
It shortened his career.
June 27, 1877
They reorganized the Ward
Brother Burton had some other calls
So they ordained Joseph Pollard.
As Bishop of the 15th Ward
In that position faithful
Throughout the balance of his life
Devoted, honest, truthful.
William L. Binder and N. V. Jones
Served as his counsellors
Both faithful in that calling
For a term of 13 years.
Many incidents we could relate
That happened in this granary
Of happy times and happy hearts
Still stationed in our memory.
In time the building got too small
To accommodate the people
Then build a larger meeting house
Our Bishop thought us able.
The rock was hauled, the trenches dug
Men worked with strength and might
Unceasingly our Bishop toiled
From morn until late at night
The work progressed quite rapidly
Stone upon stone was builded
Until entirely finished
Then it was dedicated.
Just $17,000 is what the building cost
T’was built by free donation
The donors, what a host.
Around the blocks our Bishop went
To gather money hard
And pay for raw materials
To build this House of God.
A monument it stands today
Of him now past and gone
For no one worked so hard as he
To have the job well done.
It was his theme through all the day
Wherever he was stationed.
A smile would come upon his face
When’ere of it you mentioned.
When all was paid and settled for
Our Bishop’s joy ran over
Words could not picture how he felt
Toward every liberal giver
It was the climax of his life
For many heard him say
That after its construction
He’d be content to die.
From ‘77 to year of ‘90
In ward affairs kept busy
So many things to bother him
He could not take it easy
Attending to all meetings
That he was summoned to
In rain or hail, with ache or pain
To all he’d surely go.
When filled with rheumatism
And ought to rest in bed
Instead he’d trudge to see the poor
And seek to have them fed.
His mind continually on the flock
He watched the lambs so weak
Denied himself the pleasures
That they alone might take.
Although at times the spirit strong
The flesh proved to be weak
In dragging round his aching limbs
No pleasure he could take.
His heart was beating in the cause
Of truth and its progression
For this he’d make a sacrifice
Of all of his possessions.
Somewhat peculiar in his way
Was blunt a little bit
When preaching to the wicked ones
Generally the nail he’d hit.
And sometimes drive it out of sight
In less than half a minute
Then tender as a little child
Would say “Forgive me for it.”
The spirit of discernment
Was a gift which he possessed
When called to judge a matter
When someone had transgressed
This gift would then be manifest
He’d eye the evil doer
Pointing out the wicked deed,
Or unrighteous maneuver.
Hard work was in his very soul
He taught this to his children
Up early every morning
To weed and clean the garden
Hard workers, honest day by day
His seven girls proved to be
Prosperous as their parents were
With each a family.
Of labors that he well performed
They sure would make a book full
From early morn till late at night
Endeavoring to be useful
We cannot fully estimate
His good true sterling worth
But records are kept in Heaven
Of what is done on Earth.
The work for his dear kindred dead
Was done in Logan Temple
He did for them all that he could
As far as he was able.
He did not fear to meet his kin
In brighter realms up yonder
For them performed his duty well
To them could be no kinder.
He lived past three score years and ten
Industrious, truthful, sober
The world was bettered by his life
No one had motives nobler.
Death came to him as sweet repose
So sweet it had no terrors
An honest, true devoted life
He made very few errors.
In life he sailed upon the ship
Embarked for peaceful Zion
Now safe into that glorious port
He has reached that blessed Heaven
The dream his father had of him
Has truly came to pass
In blooming flowers and meadows green
His soul has reached at last.
2014-07-24