09/20/2026
You guys loved the Lindsley family writings last time I shared them, so I thought a dreary, Autumn Sunday morning would be a perfect time to share another writing about our changing seasons! ✍️
Today’s installment comes from Leila Adaline Lindsley Cross, who went by “Adaline”. Adaline’s story is one of tragedy. Born in 1820, she was the daughter of Benjamin and Rebecca Lindsley of Middlesex. Illness plagued Adaline’s short life, but it never stopped her from pursuing education or enjoying those little moments of bliss and natural beauty surrounding her. In 1845, Adaline married Reverend Joseph Cross, and began traveling with him and his daughter on missionary appointments around the country. In 1847, Adaline gave birth to a beautiful daughter, Leila, but sadly both daughters passed away soon after from an infectious fever. Overcome with grief, Adaline finally succumbed to her own tuberculosis in Kentucky on Christmas Day 1847. She was laid to eternal rest at the young age of 27 in Pine Corners Cemetery in Middlesex.
Adaline’s sad story lives on through her writings. The University of Rochester holds one of her diary’s in their rare & special collections. Her husband Joseph later published her writings in a book, where I have found this particular piece. If you’d like to purchase this book, I believe it is available for sale online. “Portraiture and Pencilings of the Late Mrs. L.A. L. Cross” by Joseph Cross
— Amberle Kelly, Town Historian
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“THE FIRST SWEET-BRIAR.
By Leila Adaline Lindsley Cross; 1841
Sweet harbinger of summer,
Thy advent glad I greet;
Cheered by thy balmy fragrance,
So delicately sweet.
I’ve cherished thee in sunshine,
I’ve cherished thee in storm;
And love, as e’er I loved it,
The meekness of thy form.
I’ve seen the winds sweep o’er thee,
My fragile little flower;
And thought thy tender branches
Could ne’er survive their power.
But lo! Unscathed and verdant,
Once more dost thou appear;
From wintry snows and tempests
Emerging doubly dear.
Five little petals only,
Of pink the softest hue;
Prophetic of the beauty
That disappears like dew.
Sad mem’ry o’er thee bendeth,
With ever weeping eye;
With dreams of pleasures faded,
Like rainbows from the sky.
What changes have come o’er us,
Since erst thy mother true
Displayed the fragrant beauty
Which now adorneth thee!
Thy perfume too must vanish,
Dispersed upon the air;
Thy robe of green must wither,
And leave thy branches bare.
But spring again returneth,
With leaves and blossoms new;
And faded joys shall flourish,
Like flowers begemmed with dew.”
