Pictured above are James Hussey (1865-1936) and his granddaughter Maureen Gordon (nÚe Hussey). The following poem was written by Maureen about James several decades after his death:
Looking backwards through the years,
I see you sitting on my childhood bed -
Wizard of wonder,
Ancient innocence -┬
Weaving me webs of magic and myth.
Heroes and gods,
Peopled the lucid air
Through which we voyaged┬
On translucent seas
To coral islands - Cathay - Camelot.
Later, on tired old legs,
You trudged the streets,
Trading your meagre pence on market stalls
For unconsidered treasure,
Of well-thumbed books
Whose illustrations burned
Scarlet and gold through tissue coverings
Thin as the mists of time.
You were not reckoned a successful man,
Small value put on you or on your wares;
Though I recall you aureoled with love,
Your photos show you threadbare,
You left no legacy the world calls wealth,
Only to me
The little golden key
To jewelled caverns,
Into infinities of cosmic space.
You were my Homer and my Gutenberg.
Once you saw Venice,
And the spell it cast over your life
Suffused my youth with light.
When your great-grandson,┬
Your true avatar,
Caught in the same enchantment,
Took me there and I first recognised
The beauty floating on the mirroring water
That proved the truth of your mythologies,
You smiled at me again out of his eyes.
From The Tug of the Undertow © 1995, Maureen Gordon