Margaret Ann (Jones) Griffith was the mother of Elizabeth Ann (Griffith) Davis, mother of Arthur Enos Davis, father of Sarah Elizabeth (Sadie) Davis, mother of Willard Love, father of Renee Love Cue
If you are related to Renee on the Love side, Margaret is related to you! Margaret is my third great grandmother, married to Arthur Thomas Griffith, 1815-1876. Arthur and Margaret were our earliest Welsh immigrant ancestors. They left Wales in 1841 and settled in Iowa around 1843, three years before Iowa became a state (1846). In the United States, the Welsh community published journals and newspapers in the Welsh language. They often included obituaries and tributes of the Welsh in the United States.
When Margaret passed away in 1888, the journal, Y Dyrch (The Mirror), published a poem in Welsh as a tribute to her memory. Below is the poem in Welsh and then a rough translation to English.
Er Cof am Mrs. Margaret Griffiths, Long Creek, Iowa.
Mynu ei ffordd a wnaeth yr angeu du,
Ac ymaith aeth a Margaret Griffiths gu;
A’i dwyn a wnaeth er goreu’l theulu gwiw,
Ac i’w mynwesau hwy y rhoddodd friw.
Yr hapus wen oedd megys gwen y dydd
Yn dawnsio ar wynebau’i phlant yn rhydd,
A guddiwyd gan gysgodau’r cwmwl du
A ddygodd angeu ar ei rawd yn hy’.
I achos Iesu Grist pan oedd yn wan
Yn ngryym ei zel yn ffyddlon gwnaeth ei rhan;
Crefyddol oedd, i amcan buodd fyw,
Soniarus oedd ei llais yn eglwys Dduw.
Ei llwydr trwy’r byd brydfertha blodau man,
I nodi ceider pur cymeriad glan;
Prydferthwch rhinwedd hardd, ei ddylyn wna,
Ac eto’n dlws o’i hol mae’i henw da.
Translation:
In memory of Mrs. Margaret Griffiths, Long Creek, Iowa.
The black dying made his way,
And he took Margaret Griffiths to;
Stole it for the sake of the best family,
And to her bosoms she gave a wound.
The happy white was the white of the day
Dancing on her children’s faces freely,
Hidden by the shadows of the black cloud
Which brought death on its beat.
For Jesus Christ when he was weak
In his zeal faithfully he did his part;
Religious was, for the purpose of his living,
Her voice was in the church of God.
Her roar through the beautiful world of fine flowers,
To identify a pure cider a clean character;
Beauty of beautiful virtue, follow it,
Yet it is a trophy of its reputation.
“Er Cof am Mrs. Margaret Griffiths, Long Cree, Iowa. (In memory of Mrs. Margaret Griffiths, Long Creek, Iowa.),” Y Drych (The Mirror), published in Utica, New York, 15 March 1888, page 3.