Stillman Elwell

In 1836, Stillman Elwell's great grandfather, James Clack, settled on Lake George Rd. near Leonard, Michigan. Stillman was born there on February 3, 1894. He attended a one-room elementary school and graduated from the tenth grade, which was as far as school went in those days. In an interview Stillman recalled, " I grew up without radio or televison, but in their place I read, and became fascinated with the power of words."

As a young man, he and his father, Frank Elwell, bought and sold timber across the state of Michigan. For two years Stillman worked as a lumberjack in Oregon.

In 1931 Stillman's family purchased a farm in Dryden Township and there he lived the rest of his adult life with his wife, Mary.

He contributed to the community by serving as Dryden Township supervisor for seven years. His greatest legacy, however, is his poetry; often pointing out that his farmland grew more poems than it did crops.

His experiences and love of life were the focus of hundreds of poems. In the 1970's four poetry books were published, Furrows, These Things I Love, Sleigh Tracks and Windows of Thought.

These Things I Love

These things I love--the silent hills,
The magic of the last faint ray
That lingers when the sun goes down
To glorify the dying day;
The breath of spring, the fleecy clouds,
The silver moon that rides on high,
The great gray geese that wing their way
Across the late October sky.

These too, I love--the broad, green fields
That turn with passing time to gold,
The hush that settles in the pines
When snow is deep and nights are cold,
The year, that when its work is done
Puts on the scarlet robes of fall,
The still cold stars of winter's night,
And that Great Hand that guides them all!

My Bequest

I shall not leave a vast estate
When life's swift race is run;
When at last I've made the crossing
At the setting of the sun.
No wealth, no power will e'er be mine,
I'll win no loud acclaim;
My name will ner'er be written
In the gilded hall of fame.

And yet, perchance, someone may pause
At some far distant time,
To read a verse that I have left
Or sing a song of mine;
Let others leave their wealth and power,
I shall be satisfied
If I can leave a song that lives
When I have crossed the tide!