Hamilton Greene speaks from the grave about the parents who made him who he was. He names them with pride—his mother from Virginia, his father from Kentucky—and describes their blood as valiant and honorable. In his view, every achievement of his public life, from judge to congressman to state leader, flows directly from what they gave him. He divides his inherited traits neatly: from his mother came vivacity, imagination, and a gift for words; from his father came willpower, judgment, and logic. The tone is calm and satisfied, almost like a formal thank-you. There is no bitterness or regret here, only a sense of duty fulfilled. But the speaker’s certainty also feels a little self-congratulatory; he reduces a full life to a tidy list of virtues and accomplishments. The mood is dignified, even warm, but slightly stiff—like a proud man polishing his own memorial.
Hamilton Greene — Summary
I was the only child of Frances Harris of Virginia And Thomas Greene of Kentucky, Of valiant and honorable blood both. To them I owe all that I became, Judge, member of Congress, leader in the State. From my mother I inherited Vivacity, fancy, language; From my father will, judgment, logic. All honor to them For what service I was to the people!