I had occasion to visit Branford a few years ago and on my way there I determined to find some evidence of my Maltby progenitors.
On my arrival as I walked up from the little harbor to the vill- age and noticing the rolling and broken contour of the landscape, the winding of the street, through the valleys, also the loveliness of the hills upon which stands a few stately old elms and two churches, one an ancient looking stone structure, the other a more modern one of brick, caused such thoughts as the following lines of poetry.
'And thou! Old Branford on the Main, From Old World whence thy forbears came; Seeking a Land where all is free; Seeking a land of Liberty. Thy harbor small, by land it locks The passage in 'tween mermaid rocks The --- --- --- glade and lace (Impossible to decipher 3 words) And ends the nearby landing place. The scant abodes, much out of line With zig-zag streets in serpentine Thy elms waving in the breeze. Ground undulating as the Seas. Thy ancient church upon the hill With unhewn stone its walls to fill Its graveyards' mystic majesty Point to the all-true Deity. But now this lovely church of yore Has lost its stately salient corps For its array in tombstones brown Has risen to the order of the Town. The slabs with scroll artistic head With Angels sentinels o'er the dead. In copious lines of chiseled logs Depict the humble lives they bore. Old Time, by aid of frosts and rains In scaleing off the hallowed names. (3rd line not decipherable.) To future annals epigraph. O Thou! famed relic of the past Fell destiny doth hold thee fast; Though throes of time obliterate The Muses scroll doth animate. And when the last call trump shall sound The rising Saints in white robes gowned The joyous ranks, both broad and long Shall knell the echoes of their song.'
"The Country Churchyard." Dedicated to Maltby."