Father's
Day Poem 1
Authorship
You
say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don't
understand.
He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really
make out what he meant?
What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can't father
write like that, I wonder?
Did he never hear from his own mother stories of giants and
fairies and princesses?
Has he forgotten them all?
Often when he gets late for his bath you have to and call him
an hundred times.
You wait and keep his dishes warm for him, but he goes on
writing and forgets.
Father always plays at making books.
If ever I go to play in father's room, you come and call me,
"What a naughty child!"
If I make the slightest noise you say, "Don't you see that
father's at his work?"
What's the fun of always writing and writing?
When I take up father's pen or pencil and write upon his book
just as he does,-a,b,c,d,e,f,g,h,i,-why do you get cross with me
then, mother?
You never say a word when father writes.
When my father wastes such heaps of paper, mother, you don't
seem to mind at all.
But if I take only one sheet to take a boat with, you say,
"Child, how troublesome you are!"
What do you think of father's spoiling sheets and sheets of
paper with black marks all over both sides?
Rabindranath
Tagore
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Father's
Day Poem 2
If
If
you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If
you can dream-and not make dreams your master;
If you can think-and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;
If
you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”;
If
you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings-nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run-
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And-which is more-you’ll be a Man, my son!
Rudyard
Kipling
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Father's
Day Poem 3
The
Child Is Father
to the Man
'The child is father to the man.'
How can he be? The words are wild.
Suck any sense from that who can:
'The child is father to the man.'
No; what the poet did write ran,
'The man is father to the child.'
'The child is father to the man!'
How can he be? The words are wild.
Gerard
Manley Hopkins
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Father's
Day Poem 4
The Little Boy
Lost
'Father, father, where are you going?
Oh do not walk so fast!
Speak, father, speak to you little boy,
Or else I shall be lost.'
The
night was dark, no father was there,
The child was wet with dew;
The mire was deep, and the child did weep,
And away the vapour flew.
William
Blake
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Father's
Day Poem 5
My Father moved
through Dooms of Love
My
father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height
this
motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if
~ so timid air is firm
under his eyes would stir and squirm
newly
as from unburied which
floats the first who,his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots
and
should some why completely weep
my father's fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.
Lifting
the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead called the moon
singing desire into begin
joy
was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice
keen
as midsummer's keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly
~ over utmost him
so hugely stood my father's dream
his
flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn't creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.
Scorning
the Pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain
septembering
arms of year extend
yes humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable is
proudly
and
~ by octobering flame
beckonedas earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work
his shoulders marched against the dark
his
sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he'd laugh and build a world with snow.
My
father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
~ and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing
then
let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine,passion willed,
freedom a drug that's bought and sold
giving
to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear,to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am
though
dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit,all bequeath
and
nothing quite so least as truth
--i say though hate were why men breathe--
because my Father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all
E.
E. Cummings
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Father's
Day Poem 6
Saving a Train
'Twas in the year of 1869, and on the 19th of November,
Which the people in Southern Germany will long remember,
The great rain-storm which for twenty hours did pour down,
That the rivers were overflowed and petty streams all around.
The
rain fell in such torrents as had never been seen before,
That it seemed like a second deluge, the mighty torrents' roar,
At nine o'clock at night the storm did rage and moan
When Carl Springel set out on his crutches all alone --
From
the handsome little hut in which he dwelt,
With some food to his father, for whom he greatly felt,
Who was watching at the railway bridge,
Which was built upon a perpendicular rocky ridge.
The
bridge was composed of iron and wooden blocks,
And crossed o'er the Devil's Gulch, an immense cleft of rocks,
Two hundred feet wide and one hundred and fifty feet deep,
And enough to make one's flesh to creep.
Far
beneath the bridge a mountain-stream did boil and rumble,
And on that night did madly toss and tumble;
Oh! it must have been an awful sight
To see the great cataract falling from such a height.
It
was the duty of Carl's father to watch the bridge on stormy nights,
And warn the on-coming trains of danger with the red lights;
So, on this stormy night, the boy Carl hobbled along
Slowly and fearlessly upon his crutches, because he wasn't strong.
He
struggled on manfully with all his might
Through the fearful darkness of the night,
And half-blinded by the heavy rain,
But still resolved the bridge to gain.
But
when within one hundred yards of the bridge, it gave way with an awful
crash,
And fell into the roaring flood below, and made a fearful splash,
Which rose high above the din of the storm,
The like brave Carl never heard since he was born.
Then;
'Father! father!' cried Carl in his loudest tone,
'Father! father!' he shouted again in very pitiful moans;
But no answering voice did reply,
Which caused him to heave a deep-fetched sigh.
And
now to brave Carl the truth was clear
That he had lost his father dear,
And he cried, 'My poor father's lost, and cannot be found,
He's gone down with the bridge, and has been drowned.'
But
he resolves to save the on-coming train,
So every nerve and muscle he does strain,
And he trudges along dauntlessly on his crutches,
And tenaciously to them he clutches.
And
just in time he reaches his father's car
To save the on-coming train from afar,
So he seizes the red light, and swings it round,
And cried with all his might, 'The bridge is down! The bridge is down!'
So
forward his father's car he drives,
Determined to save the passengers' lives,
Struggling hard with might and main,
Hoping his struggle won't prove in vain.
So
on comes the iron-horse snorting and rumbling,
And the mountain-torrent at the bridge kept roaring and tumbling;
While brave Carl keeps shouting, 'The bridge is down! The bridge is
down!'
He cried with a pitiful wail and sound.
But,
thank heaven, the engine-driver sees the red light
That Carl keeps swinging round his head with all his might;
But bang! bang! goes the engine with a terrible crash,
And the car is dashed all to smash.
But
the breaking of the car stops the train,
And poor Carl's struggle is not in vain;
But, poor soul, he was found stark dead,
Crushed and mangled from foot to head!
And
the passengers were all loud in Carl's praise,
And from the cold wet ground they did him raise,
And tears for brave Carl fell silently around,
Because he had saved two hundred passengers from being drowned.
In
a quiet village cemetery he now sleeps among the silent dead,
In the south of Germany, with a tombstone at his head,
Erected by the passengers he saved in the train,
And which to his memory will long remain.
William
Topaz McGonagall
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Father's
Day Poem 7
Sweet And Low
Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea!
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon, and blow,
Blow him again to me;
While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
Sleep
and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
Father will come to thee soon;
Father will come to his babe in the best,
Silver sails all out of the west,
Under the silver moon:
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.
Alfred
Lord Tennyson
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Father's
Day Poem 8
Death and the
Lady
Turn in, my lord, she said ;
As it were the Father of Sin
I have hated the Father of the Dead,
The slayer of my kin ;
By the Father of the Living led,
Turn in, my lord, turn in.
We
were foes of old ; thy touch was cold,
But mine is warm as life ;
I have struggled and made thee loose thy hold,
I have turned aside the knife.
Despair itself in me was bold,
I have striven, and won the strife.
But
that which conquered thee and rose
Again to earth descends ;
For the last time we have come to blows.
And the long combat ends.
The worst and secretest of foes,
Be now my friend of friends.
Mary
Elizabeth Coleridge
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Father's
Day Poem 9
God Gave To
Me A Child In Part
GOD gave to me a child in part,
Yet wholly gave the father's heart:
Child of my soul, O whither now,
Unborn, unmothered, goest thou?
You
came, you went, and no man wist;
Hapless, my child, no breast you kist;
On no dear knees, a privileged babbler, clomb,
Nor knew the kindly feel of home.
My
voice may reach you, O my dear-
A father's voice perhaps the child may hear;
And, pitying, you may turn your view
On that poor father whom you never knew.
Alas!
alone he sits, who then,
Immortal among mortal men,
Sat hand in hand with love, and all day through
With your dear mother wondered over you.
Robert
Louis Stevenson
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Father's
Day Poem 10
The Wicked Postman
Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me,
mother dear?
The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all
wet, and you don't mind it.
Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother
to come home from school.
What has happened to you that you look so strange?
Haven't you got a letter from father today?
I saw the postman bringing letters in his bag for almost
everybody in the town.
Only father's letters he keeps to read himself. I am sure the
postman is a wicked man.
But don't be unhappy about that, mother dear.
Tomorrow is market day in the next village. You ask your maid
to buy some pens and papers.
I myself will write all father's letters; you will not find
a single mistake.
I shall write from A right up to K.
But, mother, why do you smile?
You don't believe that I can write as nicely as father does!
But I shall rule my paper carefully, and write all the letters
beautifully big.
When I finish my writing do you think I shall be so foolish
as father and drop it into the horrid postman's bag?
I shall bring it to you myself without waiting, and letter by
letter help you to read my writing.
I know the postman does not like to give you the really nice
letters.
Rabindranath Tagore
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Father's
Day Poem 11
Hymn 123
~ The Repenting Prodigal
Luke
15:13,etc.
Behold
the wretch whose lust and wine
Had wasted his estate,
He begs a share among the swine,
To taste the husks they eat!
"I
die with hunger here," he cries,
"I starve in foreign lands;
My father's house has large supplies
And bounteous are his hands.
"I'll
go, and with a mournful tongue
Fall down before his face,-
Father, I've done thy justice wrong,
Nor can deserve thy grace."
He
said, and hastened to his home,
To seek his father's love;
The father saw the rebel come,
And all his bowels move.
He
ran, and fell upon his neck,
Embraced and kissed his son;
The rebel's heart with sorrow brake
For follies he had done.
"Take
off his clothes of shame and sin,"
The father gives command,
"Dress him in garments white and clean,
With rings adorn his hand.
"A
day of feasting I ordain,
Let mirth and joy abound;
My son was dead, and lives again,
Was lost, and now is found."
Isaac
Watts
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Father's
Day Poem 12
Father
Death Blues
~ Don't Grow Old,
Part V
Hey Father Death, I'm flying home
Hey poor man, you're all alone
Hey old daddy, I know where I'm going
Father
Death, Don't cry any more
Mama's there, underneath the floor
Brother Death, please mind the store
Old
Aunty Death Don't hide your bones
Old Uncle Death I hear your groans
O Sister Death how sweet your moans
O
Children Deaths go breathe your breaths
Sobbing breasts'll ease your Deaths
Pain is gone, tears take the rest
Genius
Death your art is done
Lover Death your body's gone
Father Death I'm coming home
Guru
Death your words are true
Teacher Death I do thank you
For inspiring me to sing this Blues
Buddha
Death, I wake with you
Dharma Death, your mind is new
Sangha Death, we'll work it through
Suffering
is what was born
Ignorance made me forlorn
Tearful truths I cannot scorn
Father
Breath once more farewell
Birth you gave was no thing ill
My heart is still, as time will tell.
Allen
Ginsberg
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Father's
Day Poem 13
The Mountain
Tomb
POUR wine and dance if manhood still have pride,
Bring roses if the rose be yet in bloom;
The cataract smokes upon the mountain side,
Our Father Rosicross is in his tomb.
Pull down the blinds, bring fiddle and clarionet
That there be no foot silent in the room
Nor mouth from kissing, nor from wine unwet;
Our Father Rosicross is in his tomb.
In vain, in pain; the cataract still cries;
The everlasting taper lights the gloom;
All wisdom shut into his onyx eyes,
Our Father Rosicross sleeps in his tomb.
William
Butler Yeats
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Father's
Day Poem 14
The Land of
Dreams
Awake, awake, my little boy!
Thou wast thy mother's only joy;
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
Awake! thy father does thee keep.
"O,
what land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O father! I saw my mother there,
Among the lilies by waters fair.
"Among
the lambs, cloth?d in white,
She walk'd with her Thomas in sweet delight.
I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn;
O! when shall I again return?"
Dear
child, I also by pleasant streams
Have wander'd all night in the Land of Dreams;
But tho' calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side.
"Father,
O father! what do we here
In this land of unbelief and fear?
The Land of Dreams is better far
Above the light of the morning star."
William
Blake
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Father's
Day Poem 15
Casabianca
The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.
Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though childlike form.
The
flames roll'd on...he would not go
Without his father's word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.
He
call'd aloud..."Say, father,say
If yet my task is done!"
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.
"Speak,
father!" once again he cried
"If I may yet be gone!"
And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames roll'd on.
Upon
his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving hair,
And looked from that lone post of death,
In still yet brave despair;
And
shouted but one more aloud,
"My father, must I stay?"
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud
The wreathing fires made way,
They
wrapt the ship in splendour wild,
They caught the flag on high,
And stream'd above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.
There
came a burst of thunder sound...
The boy-oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea.
With
mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part;
But the noblest thing which perished there
Was that young faithful heart.
Felicia
Dorothea Hemans
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Father's
Day Poem 16
Father
My father knows the proper way
The nation should be run;
He tells us children every day
Just what should now be done.
He knows the way to fix the trusts,
He has a simple plan;
But if the furnace needs repairs,
We have to hire a man.
My father, in a day or two
Could land big thieves in jail;
There's nothing that he cannot do,
He knows no word like "fail."
"Our confidence" he would restore,
Of that there is no doubt;
But if there is a chair to mend,
We have to send it out.
All
public questions that arise,
He settles on the spot;
He waits not till the tumult dies,
But grabs it while it's hot.
In matters of finance he can
Tell Congress what to do;
But, O, he finds it hard to meet
His bills as they fall due.
It
almost makes him sick to read
The things law-makers say;
Why, father's just the man they need,
He never goes astray.
All wars he'd very quickly end,
As fast as I can write it;
But when a neighbor starts a fuss,
'Tis mother has to fight it.
In
conversation father can
Do many wondrous things;
He's built upon a wiser plan
Than presidents or kings.
He knows the ins and outs of each
And every deep transaction;
We look to him for theories,
But look to ma for action.
Edgar
Albert Guest
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Father's
Day Poem 17
Hymn 11
~ The humble enlightened, and carnal reason humbled.
Luke
10:21,22.
There
was an hour when Christ rejoiced,
And spoke his joy in words of praise:
"Father, I thank thee, mighty God,
Lord of the earth, and heav'ns, and seas.
"I
thank thy sovereign power and love
That crowns my doctrine with success,
And makes the babes in knowledge learn
The heights, and breadths, and lengths of grace.
"But
all this glory lies concealed
From men of prudence and of wit;
The prince of darkness blinds their eyes,
And their own pride resists the light.
"Father,
'tis thus, because thy will
Chose and ordained it should be so;
'Tis thy delight t' abase the proud,
And lay the haughty scorner low.
"There's
none can know the Father right
But those who learn it from the Son;
Nor can the Son be well received
But where the Father makes him known."
Then
let our souls adore our God,
Who deals his graces as he please;
Nor gives to mortals an account
Or of his actions or decrees.
Isaac
Watts
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Father's
Day Poem 18
Come Back to
the Farm!
Brother, come back! come back!
Dear brother, what can be the charm,
That holds you so strong -- that keeps you so long
Away from your father's able farm?
Poor Father, he tells how he needs you --
And would it be more than is due.
His labors to share, his burdens to bear,
Who once bore your burdens for you!
'Tis
the voice of your sister -- she calls you,
In tones both of love and alarm!
"By dead mother's prayers -- by father's gray hairs --
Dear brother, come back to the farm."
Father,
tho' years ago
The ablest and strongest of men,
Is failing at last -- you know he has past
The milestone of three-score and ten.
He's feeble, he's trembling, he's lonely,
Who once was so fearless and brave;
Yet you are away, while day after day
He totters on down to the grave.
Come
from the wide, wide world,
Where dangers and perile abound!
Oh how can you roam so far from your home,
Where safety and comfort are found?
Come bring us the light of your presence,
Come give us the strength of your arm;
That we may once more see joy, as of yore,
Sit smiling upon the old farm.
Henry
Clay Work
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Father's
Day Poem 19
Lilian Stewart
I was the daughter of Lambert Hutchins,
Born in a cottage near the grist-mill,
Reared in the mansion there on the hill,
With its spires, bay-windows, and roof of slate.
How proud my mother was of the mansion!
How proud of father's rise in the world!
And how my father loved and watched us,
And guarded our happiness.
But I believe the house was a curse,
For father's fortune was little beside it;
And when my husband found he had married
A girl who was really poor,
He taunted me with the spires,
And called the house a fraud on the world,
A treacherous lure to young men, raising hopes
Of a dowry not to be had;
And a man while selling his vote
Should get enough from the people's betrayal
To wall the whole of his family in.
He vexed my life till I went back home
And lived like an old maid till I died,
Keeping house for father.
Edgar
Lee Masters
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Father's
Day Poem 20
The Little Big
Man
I am small because I am a little child. I shall be big when I am
as old as my father is.
My teacher will come and say, "It is late, bring your slate
and your books."
I shall tell him, " Do you not know I am as big as father? And
I must not have lessons any more."
My master will wonder and say, "He can leave his books if he
likes, for he is grown up."
I shall dress myself and walk to the fair where the crowd is
thick.
My uncle will come rushing up to me and say, "You will get
lost, my boy; let me carry you."
I shall answer, "Can't you see, uncle, I am as big as father?
I must go to the fair alone."
Uncle will say, "Yes, he can go wherever he likes, for he is
grown up."
Mother will come from her bath when I am giving money to my
nurse, for I shall know how to open the box with my key.
Mother will say, "What are you about, naughty child?"
I shall tell her, "Mother, don't you know, I am as big as
father, and I must give silver to my nurse."
Mother will say to herself, "He can give money to whom he
likes, for he is grown up."
In the holiday time in October father will come home and,
thinking that I am still a baby, will bring for me from the town
little shoes and small silken frocks.
I shall say, "Father, give them to my data, for I am as big
as you are."
Father will think and say, "He can buy his own clothes if he
likes, for he is grown up."
Rabindranath
Tagore
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Father's
Day Poem 21
Illa-hi-Nama
~ Book of God
In
the Book of God
~ Ilahi-nama 'Attar framed his mystical teachings in
various stories that a caliph tells his six sons, who are kings themselves
and seek worldly pleasures and power.
The first son is captivated by a virgin princess, and his father tells
him the adventures of a beautiful and virtuous woman who attracts several
men but miraculously survives their abuse and then forgives them. They
acknowledge that carnal desire is necessary to propagate the race but
also recognize that passionate love can lead to spiritual love, which
can annihilate the soul in the beloved.
Other stories indicate the importance of respecting the lives of other
creatures such as ants or dogs. One only thinks oneself better than
a dog because of one's dog-like nature. The second son tells his father
that his heart craves magic; but his father warns him against the work
of the Devil. A monk tells a shaikh that he has chosen the job of locking
up a savage dog inside himself, and he advises the shaikh to lock up
anger lest he be changed into a dog. The father suggests that this son
ask for something more worthy and tells an anecdote in which Jesus teaches
a man the greatest name of God. The man uses it to make bones come alive
into a lion, which devours him, leaving his bones. Jesus then says that
when a person asks for something unworthy, God does not grant it. Birds
and beasts flee from people, because people eat them. God tells Moses
to watch his heart when he is alone, to be kind and watch his tongue
when he is with people, the road in front when he is walking, and his
gullet when he is dining. A saint tells a shaikh that love is never
denied to humans, for only the lover knows the true value of the beloved.
Another saint warns that unless you pray for protection from negativity
~ the Devil, you shall not enter the court of God.
The
third son of the caliph asks for a cup that could display the whole
world. 'Attar concluded a story by saying that Sufism is to rest in
patience and forsake all desire for the world, and trust in God means
bridling one's tongue and wishing for better things for others than
for oneself. This son asks why his father seems to disparage the love
of honor and the love of wealth which all seem to possess. The caliph
replies that in the crazy prison of the world one can achieve greatness
only by devotion. Since one speaks to God through the heart and soul,
it is difficult to speak with God of worldly things. The third son asks
if he can be allowed to seek power in moderation; but the father still
warns that this will place screens between him and God. Each screen
created by seeking power will create more screens. One must see both
the good and the bad inside and outside oneself to understand how they
are connected together. Saints who reach their goal see nothingness
in all things, making sugar seem like poison and a rose like thorns.
Ayaz advises the conquering sultan Mahmud to leave his self behind since
he is better being entirely We. In the last story for his third son,
the father says that thousands of arts, mysteries, definitions, commands,
prohibitions, orders, and injunctions are founded on the intellect.
What cup could be more revealing than this?
The
fourth son seeks the water of life, and his father warns him against
desire. A wise man considers Alexander the Great the slave of his slave,
because the Greek conqueror has submitted to greed and desire, which
this wise man controls. If the son cannot have the water of life, he
asks for the knowledge that will illuminate his heart. In one story
'Attar concluded that if you are not faithful in love, you are in love
only with yourself. The fifth son asks for the ring of Solomon that
enables one to communicate with birds and other animals. The Way is
summarized as seeing the true road, traveling light, and doing no harm.
The father tells this son that he has chosen an earthly kingdom, because
he has not heard of the kingdom of the next world. He advises this king
that since his sovereignty will not endure not to load the whole world
on his shoulders. Why take on the burden of all creation? The caliph
suggests that his son practice contentment, which is an eternal kingdom
that overshadows even the Sun. When Joseph was thrown into a pit, the
angel Gabriel counseled him that it is better to notice a single blemish
in yourself than to see a hundred lights of the Unseen.
The
sixth son desires to practice alchemy, but his father perceives that
he is caught in the snare of greed. Gold is held more tightly by a miser
than the rock grips the ore. The son observes that excessive poverty
often leads to losing faith, and so he asks God for both the philosopher's
stone and for gold; but his father replies that one cannot promote both
faith and the world at the same time. In the epilog the poet commented
that since he receives his daily bread from the Unseen, he does not
have to be the slave of wretched men, and 'Attar concluded this work
with the satisfaction that he has perfumed the name of God with his
poetry.
Farid
al-Din Attar
|
Father's
Day Poem 22
The Blind Rower
And
since he rowed his father home,
His hand has never touched an oar.
All day he wanders on the shore,
And hearkens to the swishing foam.
Though blind from birth, he still could row
As well as any lad with sight;
And knew strange things that none may know
Save those who live without the light. When they put out that Summer
eve
To sink the lobster-pots at sea,
The sun was crimson in the sky;
And not a breath was in the sky;
The brooding, thunder-laden sky,
That, heavily and wearily,
Weighed down upon the waveless sea
That scarcely seamed to heave.
The
pots were safely sunk; and then
The father gave the word for home:
He took the tiller in his hand,
And, in hi s heart already home,
He brought her nose round towards the land,
To steer her straight for home.
He
never spoke,
Nor stirred again:
A sudden stroke,
And he lay dead,
With staring eyes, and lips off lead.
The
son rowed on, and nothing feared:
And sometimes, merrily,
He lifted up his voice, and sang,
Both high and low,
And loud and sweet:
For he was ever gay at sea,
And ever glad to row,
And rowed as only blind men row:
And little did the blind lad know
That death was at his feet:
For still he thought his father steered;
Nor knew that he was all alone
With death upon the open sea.
So merrily, he rowed, and sang:
And, strangely on the silence rang
That lonely melody,
As, through the livid, brooding gloam,
By rock and reef, he rowed for home--
The blind man rowed the dead man home.
But,
as they neared the shore,
He rested on his oar:
And, wondering that his father kept
So very quiet in the stern,
He laughed, and asked him if he slept;
And vowed he heard him snore just now.
Though, when his father spoke no word,
A sudden fear upon him came:
And, crying on his father's name,
With flinching heart, he heard
The water lapping on the shore;
And all his blood ran cold, to feel
The shingle grate beneath the keel:
And stretching over towards the stern,
His knuckle touched the dead man's brow.
But
help was near at hand;
And safe he came to land:
Though none has ever known
How he rowed in, alone,
And never touched a reef.
Some say they saw the dead man steer--
The dead man steer the blind man home--
Though, when they found him dead,
His hand was cold as lead.
So,
ever restless, to and fro,
In every sort of weather,
The blind lad wanders on the shore,
And hearkens to the foam.
His hand has never touched an oar,
Since they came home together--
The blind, who rowed his father home--
The dear, who steered his blind son home.
Wilfred
Wilson Gibson
|
Father's
Day Poem 23
Moonchild
Whatever slid into my mother's room that
late june night, tapping her great belly,
summoned me out roundheaded and unsmiling.
is this the moon, my father used to grin.
cradling me? it was the moon
but nobody knew it then.
The
moon understands dark places.
the moon has secrets of her own.
she holds what light she can.
We
girls were ten years old and giggling
in our hand-me-downs. we wanted breasts,
pretended that we had them, tissued
our undershirts. jay johnson is teaching
me to french kiss, ella bragged, who
is teaching you? how do you say; my father?
The
moon is queen of everything.
she rules the oceans, rivers, rain.
when I am asked whose tears these are
I always blame the moon.
Lucille
Clifton
|
Father's
Day Poem 24
Memory of My
Father
Every old man I see
Reminds me of my father
When he had fallen in love with death
One time when sheaves were gathered.
That
man I saw in Gardner Street
Stumbled on the kerb was one,
He stared at me half-eyed,
I might have been his son.
And
I remember the musician
Faltering over his fiddle
In Bayswater, London,
He too set me the riddle.
Every
old man I see
In October-coloured weather
Seems to say to me:
"I was once your father."
Patrick
Kavanagh
|
Father's
Day Poem 25
To a Friend
Well, Lizzie Anderson! seventeen men--and
the baby hard to find a father for!
What
will the good Father in Heaven say
to the local judge if he do not solve this problem?
A little two-pointed smile and--pouff!--
the law is changed into a mouthful of phrases.
William
Carlos Williams
|
Father's
Day Poem 26
Never Again
Never again will I weep
And wring my hands
And beat my head against the wall
Because
Me nolentem fata trahunt
But
When I have had enough
I will arise
And go unto my Father
And I will say to Him:
Father, I have had enough.
Stevie
Smith
|
Father's
Day Poem 27
Earth's Answer
Earth raised up her head
From the darkness dread and drear,
Her light fled,
Stony, dread,
And her locks covered with grey despair.
'Prisoned
on watery shore,
Starry jealousy does keep my den
Cold and hoar;
Weeping o're,
I hear the father of the ancient men.
'Selfish
father of men!
Cruel, jealous, selfish fear!
Can delight,
Chained in night,
The virgins of youth and morning bear?
'Does spring hide its joy,
When buds and blossoms grow?
Does the sower
Sow by night,
Or the plowman in darkness plough?
'Break
this heavy chain,
That does freeze my bones around!
Selfish, vain,
Eternal bane,
That free love with bondage bound.'
William
Blake
|
Father's
Day Poem 28
A British-Roman
Song
~ A. D. 406
"A Centurion of the Thirtieth"
My father's father saw it not,
And I, belike, shall never come
To look on that so-holy spot --
That very Rome --
Crowned
by all Time, all Art, all Might,
The equal work of Gods and Man,
City beneath whose oldest height --
The Race began!
Soon
to send forth again a brood,
Unshakable, we pray, that clings
To Rome's thrice-hammered hardihood --
In arduous things.
Strong
heart with triple armour bound,
Beat strongly, for thy life-blood runs,
Age after Age, the Empire round --
In us thy Sons
Who,
distant from the Seven Hills,
Loving and serving much, require
Thee -- thee to guard 'gainst home-born ills
The Imperial Fire!
Rudyard
Kipling
|
Father's
Day Poem 29
Infant Sorrow
My mother groaned, my father wept,
Into the dangerous world I leapt;
Helpless, naked, piping loud,
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
Struggling
in my father's hands,
Striving against my swaddling bands,
Bound and weary, I thought best
To sulk upon my mother's breast.
William
Blake
|
Father's
Day Poem 30
Pine Forest
Let us go now into the forest.
Trees will pass by your face,
and I will stop and offer you to them,
but they cannot bend down.
The night watches over its creatures,
except for the pine trees that never change:
the old wounded springs that spring
blessed gum, eternal afternoons.
If they could, the trees would lift you
and carry you from valley to valley,
and you would pass from arm to arm,
a child running
from father to father.
Gabriela Mistral
|
Father's
Day Poem 31
Algernon
Who played with a Loaded Gun, and, on missing his Sister was reprimanded
by his Father.
Young
Algernon, the Doctor's Son,
Was playing with a Loaded Gun.
He pointed it towards his Sister,
Aimed very carefully, but
Missed her!
His Father, who was standing near,
The Loud Explosion chanced to Hear,
And reprimanded Algernon
For playing with a Loaded Gun.
Hilaire
Belloc
|
Father's
Day Poem 32
Freedom
What freeman knoweth freedom? Never he
Whose father's father through long lives have reigned
O'er kingdoms which mere heritage attained.
Though from his youth to age he roam as free
As winds, he dreams not freedom's ecstacy.
But he whose birth was in a nation chained
For centuries; where every breath was drained
From breasts of slaves which knew not there could be
Such thing as freedom,--he beholds the light
Burst, dazzling; though the glory blind his sight
He knows the joy. Fools laugh because he reels
And weilds confusedly his infant will;
The wise man watching with a heart that feels
Says: "Cure for freedom's harms is freedom still."
Helen
Hunt Jackson
|
Father's
Day Poem 33
The Gold Lily
As I perceive
I am dying now and know
I will not speak again, will not
survive the earth, be summoned
out of it again, not
a flower yet, a spine only, raw dirt
catching my ribs, I call you,
father and master: all around,
my companions are failing, thinking
you do not see. How
can they know you see
unless you save us?
In the summer twilight, are you
close enough to hear
your child's terror? Or
are you not my father,
you who raised me?
Louise
Gluck
|
Father's
Day Poem 34
Alice Sick
Sick, Alice grown, and fearing dire event,
Some friend advised a servant should be sent
Her confessor to bring and ease her mind;--
Yes, she replied, to see him I'm inclined;
Let father Andrew instantly be sought:--
By him salvation usually I'm taught.
A
messenger was told, without delay,
To take, with rapid steps, the convent way;
He rang the bell--a monk enquired his name,
And asked for what, or whom, the fellow came.
I father Andrew want, the wight replied,
Who's oft to Alice confessor and guide:
With Andrew, cried the other, would you speak?
If that's the case, he's far enough to seek;
Poor man! he's left us for the regions blessed,
And has in Paradise ten years confessed.
Jean
de La Fontaine
|
Father's
Day Poem 35
Savantism
Thither, as I look, I see each result and glory retracing itself and
nestling close, always obligated;
Thither hours, months, years--thither trades, compacts,
establishments, even the most minute;
Thither every-day life, speech, utensils, politics, persons, estates;
Thither we also, I with my leaves and songs, trustful, admirant,
As a father, to his father going, takes his children along with him.
Walt
Whitman
|
Father's
Day Poem 36
The Love Song
of
Har Dyal
Alone upon the housetops to the North
I turn and watch the lightnings in the sky--
The glamour of thy footsteps in the North.
Come back to me, Beloved, or I die.
Below
my feet the still bazar is laid--
Far, far below the weary camels lie--
The camels and the captives of thy raid.
Come back to me, Beloved, or I die!
My
father's wife is old and harsh with years,
And drudge of all my father's house am I--
My bread is sorrow and my drink is tears.
Come back to me, Beloved, or I die!
Rudyard
Kipling
|
Father's
Day Poem 37
Tours
A girl on the stairs listens to her father
Beat up her mother.
Doors bang.
She comes down in her nightgown.
The
piano stands there in the dark
Like a boy with an orchid.
She
plays what she can
Then she turns the lamp on.
Her
mother's music is spread out
On the floor like brochures.
She
hears her father
Running through the leaves.
The
last black key
She presses stays down, makes no sound
Someone putting their tongue where their tooth had been.
C.
D. Wright
|
Father's
Day Poem 38
He told a homely
tale
He
told a homely tale
And spotted it with tears—
Upon his infant face was set
The Cicatrice of years—
All
crumpled was the cheek
No other kiss had known
Than flake of snow, divided with
The Redbreast of the Barn—
If
Mother—in the Grave—
Or Father—on the Sea—
Or Father in the Firmament—
Or Brethren, had he—
If
Commonwealth below,
Or Commonwealth above
Have missed a Barefoot Citizen—
I've ransomed it—alive—
Emily
Dickinson
|
Father's
Day Poem 39
Percy Bysshe
Shelley
My father who owned the wagon-shop
And grew rich shoeing horses
Sent me to the University of Montreal.
I learned nothing and returned home,
Roaming the fields with Bert Kessler,
Hunting quail and snipe.
At Thompson's Lake the trigger of my gun
Caught in the side of the boat
And a great hole was shot through my heart.
Over me a fond father erected this marble shaft,
On which stands the figure of a woman
Carved by an Italian artist.
They say the ashes of my namesake
Were scattered near the pyramid of Caius Cestius
Somewhere near Rome.
Edgar
Lee Masters
|
Father's
Day Poem 40
The Bread-Knife
Ballad
A little child was sitting Up on her mother's knee
And down down her cheeks the bitter tears did flow.
And as I sadly listened I heard this tender plea,
'Twas uttered in a voice so soft and low.
"Not
guilty" said the Jury And the Judge said "Set her free,
But remember it must not occur again.
And next time you must listen to you little daughter's plea,"
Then all the Court did join in this refrain.
Chorus:
"Please Mother don't stab Father with the BREAD-KNIFE,
Remember 'twas a gift when you were wed.
But if you must stab Father with the BREAD-KNIFE,
Please Mother use another for the BREAD."
Robert
W. Service
|
|
|
|
|
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Father's
Day Poem 41
The Farmer's
Daughter
The Rector met a little lass
Who led a heifer by a rope.
Said he: "Why don't you go to Mass?
Do you not want to please the Pope?"
The
village maiden made reply,
As on the rope she ceased to pull:
"My father said this morning I
Must take Paquerette to see the bull."
The
Rector frowned. ";Tis wrong, I wist
To leave your prayer-book on the shelf.
Your father has a stronger wrist;
Why can't he do the job himself?"
Then
lovely in her innocence,
With gaze as pure as meadow pool,
The maid spoke in her sire's defense:
"But Daddy, please your Reverence,
Would rather leave it to the bull."
Robert
W. Service
|
Father's
Day Poem 42
Dream Song 82:
Op. posth. no. 5
Maskt as honours, insult like behaving
missiles homes. I bow, & grunt 'Thank you.
I'm glad you could come
so late.' All loves are gratified. I'm having
to screw a little thing I have to screw.
Good nature is over.
Herewith
ill-wishes. From a cozy grave
rainbow I scornful laughings. Do not do,
Father, me down.
Let's shuck an obligation. O I have
done. Is the inner-coffin burning blue
or did Jehovah frown?
Jehovah.
Period. Yahweh. Period. God.
It is marvellous that views so differay
~ Father is a Jesuit
can love so well each other. We was had.
O visit in my last tomb me.—Perché?
—Is a nice pit.
John
Berryman
|
Father's
Day Poem 43
To R.W.E.
As when a father dies, his children draw
About the empty hearth, their loss to cheat
With uttered praise & love, & oft repeat
His all-familiar words with whispered awe.
The honored habit of his daily law,
Not for his sake, but theirs whose feeble feet
Need still that guiding lamp, whose faith, less sweet,
Misses that tempered patience without flaw,
So do we gather round thy vacant chair,
In thine own elm-roofed, amber-rivered town,
Master & Father! For the love we bear,
Not for thy fame's sake, do we weave this crown,
And feel thy presence in the sacred air,
Forbidding us to weep that thou art gone.
Emma
Lazarus
|
Father's
Day Poem 44
Miranda's Song
Ye elves! when spangled starlight gleams,
That flit beneath the ray,
Till morning darts her magic beams
And pale night hies away:
Ye know where springs each flow'ret rare,
The sweetest seek for me:
I'll weave a chaplet rich and fair—
My father! 'tis for thee!
The
flow'rs, the trees, the birds appear
To wait but on my call;
But he whose power has plac'd them here
Is dearer far than all:
My thoughts with tender pleasure rest
On each delight I see;
But all the love that swells in my breast,
My father, is for thee!
Louisa
Stuart Costello
|
Father's
Day Poem 45
Talking to My
Father,
Whose Ashes Sit in a Closet and Listen
Death is not the final word.
Without ears, my father still listens,
still shrugs his shoulders
whenever I ask a question he doesn't want to answer.
I stand at the closet door, my hand on the knob,
my hip leaning against the frame and ask him
what does he think about the war in Iraq
and how does he feel about his oldest daughter
getting married to a man she met on the Internet.
Without eyes, my father still looks around.
He sees what I am trying to do, sees that I
have grown less passive with his passing,
understands my need for answers only he can provide.
I imagine him drawing a breath, sensing
his lungs once again filling with air, his thoughts ballooning.
Lisa
Zaran
|
Father's
Day Poem 46
Hymn 131
~ The Pharisee and publican.
Luke
18:10ff.
Saints,
at your heav'nly Father's word
Give up your comforts to the Lord;
Behold how sinners disagree,
The publican and Pharisee!
One doth his righteousness proclaim,
The other owns his guilt and shame.
This
man at humble distance stands,
And cries for grace with lifted hands
That boldly rises near the throne,
And talks of duties he has done.
The
Lord their diff'rent language knows,
And diff'rent answers he bestows;
The humble soul with grace he crowns,
Whilst on the proud his anger frowns.
Dear
Father! let me never be
Joined with the boasting Pharisee;
I have no merits of my own
But plead the suff'rings of thy Son.
Isaac
Watts
|
Father's
Day Poem 47
Paulo Post Futuri
Weep ye not, ye children dear,
That
as yet ye are unborn:
For each sorrow and each tear
Makes
the father's heart to mourn.
Patient
be a short time to it,
Unproduced,
and known to none;
If your father cannot do it,
By
your mother 'twill be done.
Johann
Wolfgang von Goethe
|
Father's
Day Poem 48
The Gold Lily
As I perceive
I am dying now and know
I will not speak again, will not
survive the earth, be summoned
out of it again, not
a flower yet, a spine only, raw dirt
catching my ribs, I call you,
father and master: all around,
my companions are failing, thinking
you do not see. How
can they know you see
unless you save us?
In the summer twilight, are you
close enough to hear
your child's terror? Or
are you not my father,
you who raised me?
Louise
Glück
|
Father's
Day Poem 49
Dialogue Between
Ghost and Priest
In the rectory garden on his evening walk
Paced brisk Father Shawn. A cold day, a sodden one it was
In black November. After a sliding rain
Dew stood in chill sweat on each stalk,
Each thorn; spiring from wet earth, a blue haze
Hung caught in dark-webbed branches like a fabulous heron.
Hauled
sudden from solitude,
Hair prickling on his head,
Father Shawn perceived a ghost
Shaping itself from that mist.
'How
now,' Father Shawn crisply addressed the ghost
Wavering there, gauze-edged, smelling of woodsmoke,
'What manner of business are you on?
From your blue pallor, I'd say you inhabited the frozen waste
Of hell, and not the fiery part. Yet to judge by that dazzled look,
That noble mien, perhaps you've late quitted heaven?'
In
voice furred with frost,
Ghost said to priest:
'Neither of those countries do I frequent:
Earth is my haunt.'
'Come,
come,' Father Shawn gave an impatient shrug,
'I don't ask you to spin some ridiculous fable
Of gilded harps or gnawing fire: simply tell
After your life's end, what just epilogue
God ordained to follow up your days. Is it such trouble
To satisfy the questions of a curious old fool?'
'In
life, love gnawed my skin
To this white bone;
What love did then, love does now:
Gnaws me through.'
'What
love,' asked Father Shawn, 'but too great love
Of flawed earth-flesh could cause this sorry pass?
Some damned condition you are in:
Thinking never to have left the world, you grieve
As though alive, shriveling in torment thus
To atone as shade for sin that lured blind man.'
'The
day of doom
Is not yest come.
Until that time
A crock of dust is my dear hom.'
'Fond
phantom,' cried shocked Father Shawn,
'Can there be such stubbornness--
A soul grown feverish, clutching its dead body-tree
Like a last storm-crossed leaf? Best get you gone
To judgment in a higher court of grace.
Repent, depart, before God's trump-crack splits the sky.'
From
that pale mist
Ghost swore to priest:
'There sits no higher court
Than man's red heart.'
Sylvia
Plath
|
Father's
Day Poem 50
Veni, Creator
Spiritus
Creator Spirit, by whose aid
The world's foundations first were laid,
Come, visit ev'ry pious mind;
Come, pour thy joys on human kind;
From sin, and sorrow set us free;
And make thy temples worthy Thee.
O,
Source of uncreated Light,
The Father's promis'd Paraclete!
Thrice Holy Fount, thrice Holy Fire,
Our hearts with heav'nly love inspire;
Come, and thy Sacred Unction bring
To sanctify us, while we sing!
Plenteous
of grace, descend from high,
Rich in thy sev'n-fold energy!
Thou strength of his Almighty Hand,
Whose pow'r does heav'n and earth command:
Proceeding Spirit, our Defence,
Who do'st the gift of tongues dispence,
And crown'st thy gift with eloquence!
Refine
and purge our earthly parts;
But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!
Our frailties help, our vice control;
Submit the senses to the soul;
And when rebellious they are grown,
Then, lay thy hand, and hold 'em down.
Chase
from our minds th' Infernal Foe;
And peace, the fruit of love, bestow;
And, lest our feet should step astray,
Protect, and guide us in the way.
Make
us Eternal Truths receive,
And practise, all that we believe:
Give us thy self, that we may see
The Father and the Son, by thee.
Immortal
honour, endless fame,
Attend th' Almighty Father's name:
The Saviour Son be glorified,
Who for lost Man's redemption died:
And equal adoration be,
Eternal Paraclete, to thee.
John
Dryden
|
Father's
Day Poem 51
Superior
Mother, your baby is silly! She is so absurdly childish!
She does not know the difference between the lights in the
streets and the stars.
When we play at eating with pebbles, she thinks they are real
food, and tries to put them into her mouth.
When I open a book before her and ask her to learn her a, b,
c, she tears the leaves with her hands and roars for joy at
nothing; this is your baby's way of doing her lesson.
When I shake my head at her in anger and scold her and call
her naughty, she laughs and thinks it great fun.
Everybody knows that father is away, but if in play I call
aloud "Father," she looks about her in excitement and thinks
that
father is near.
When I hold my class with the donkeys that our washer man
brings to carry away the clothes and I warn her that I am the
schoolmaster, she will scream for no reason and call me dada.
Your baby wants to catch the moon. She is so funny; she calls
Ganesh Ganush.
Mother, your baby is silly! She is so absurdly childish!
Rabindranath Tagore
|
Father's
Day Poem 52
Blood
"A true Arab knows how to catch a fly in his hands,"
my father would say. And he'd prove it,
cupping the buzzer instantly
while the host with the swatter stared.
In
the spring our palms peeled like snakes.
True Arabs believed watermelon could heal fifty ways.
I changed these to fit the occasion.
Years
before, a girl knocked,
wanted to see the Arab.
I said we didn't have one.
After that, my father told me who he was,
"Shihab"--"shooting star"--
a good name, borrowed from the sky.
Once I said, "When we die, we give it back?"
He said that's what a true Arab would say.
Today
the headlines clot in my blood.
A little Palestinian dangles a truck on the front page.
Homeless fig, this tragedy with a terrible root
is too big for us. What flag can we wave?
I wave the flag of stone and seed,
table mat stitched in blue.
I
call my father, we talk around the news.
It is too much for him,
neither of his two languages can reach it.
I drive into the country to find sheep, cows,
to plead with the air:
Who calls anyone civilized?
Where can the crying heart graze?
What does a true Arab do now?
Naomi
Shihab Nye
|
Father's
Day Poem 53
The Orphan
My father and mother are dead,
Nor friend, nor relation I know;
And now the cold earth is their bed,
And daisies will over them grow.
I
cast my eyes into the tomb,
The sight made me bitterly cry;
I said, "And is this the dark room,
Where my father and mother must lie?"
I
cast my eyes round me again,
In hopes some protector to see;
Alas! but the search was in vain,
For none had compassion on me.
I
cast my eyes up to the sky,
I groan'd, though I said not a word;
Yet GOD was not deaf to my cry,
The Friend of the fatherless heard.
For
since I have trusted his care,
And learn'd on his word to depend,
He has kept me from every snare,
And been my best Father and Friend.
Jane
Taylor
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Father's
Day Poem 54
When Heaving
on
the Stormy Waters
When, heaving on the stormy waters,
I felt my ship beneath to sink,
I prayed, "Oh, Father Satan, save me,
Forgive me at death's utter brink!
"If
you will save my soul embittered
From perishing before its hour,
The days to come, the nights that follow
I vow to vice, I pledge to power."
The
Devil forthwith snatched and flung me
Into a boat; the sides were frail,
But on the bench the oars were lying
And in the bow an old gray sail.
And
landward once again I carried
My outcast soul, bereft of kin,
Upon its sick and vicious sojourn
My body and its gift of sin.
And
I am faithful, Father Satan,
Unto my evil hour's vow,
When from my drowning ship you saved me
And when I prayed you guide the prow.
To
you descend my praises, Father,
No day from bitter blame exempt.
O'er worlds my blasphemy shall tower;
And I shall tempt -- and I shall tempt.
Fyodor
Sologub
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Father's
Day Poem 55
The Destruction
Of Magdeburg
Oh, Magdeberg the town!
Fair maids thy beauty crown,
Thy charms fair maids and matrons crown;
Oh, Magdeburg the town!
Where
all so blooming stands,
Advance fierce Tilly's bands;
O'er gardens and o'er well--till'd lands
Advance fierce Tilly's bands.
Now
Tilly's at the gate.
Our homes who'll liberate?
Go, loved one, hasten to the gate,
And dare the combat straight!
There
is no need as yet,
However fierce his threat;
Thy rosy cheeks I'll kiss, sweet pet!
There is no need as yet.
My
longing makes me pale.
Oh, what can wealth avail?
E'en now thy father may be pale.
Thou mak'st my courage fail.
Oh,
mother, give me bread!
Is then my father dead?
Oh, mother, one small crust of bread!
Oh, what misfortune dread!
Thy
father, dead lies he,
The trembling townsmen flee,
Adown the street the blood runs free;
Oh, whither shall we flee?
The
churches ruined lie,
The houses burn on high,
The roofs they smoke, the flames out fly,
Into the street then hie!
No
safety there they meet!
The soldiers fill the Street,
With fire and sword the wreck complete:
No safety there they meet!
Down
falls the houses' line,
Where now is thine or mine?
That bundle yonder is not thine,
Thou flying maiden mine!
The
women sorrow sore.
The maidens far, far more.
The living are no virgins more;
Thus Tilly's troops make war!
Johann
Wolfgang von Goethe
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Father's
Day Poem 56
Hymn 143
~ Characters of the children of God. From several scriptures.
So
new-born babes desire the breast,
To feed, and grow, and thrive;
So saints with joy the gospel taste,
And by the gospel live.
[With
inward gust their heart approves
All that the word relates;
They love the men their Father loves,
And hate the works he hates.]
[Not
all the flatt'ring baits on earth
Can make them slaves to lust;
They can't forget their heav'nly birth,
Nor grovel in the dust.
Not
all the chains that tyrants use
Shall bind their souls to vice;
Faith, like a conqueror, can produce
A thousand victories.]
[Grace,
like an uncorrupting seed,
Abides and reigns within;
Immortal principles forbid
The sons of God to sin.]
[Not
by the terrors of a slave
Do they perform his will,
But with the noblest powers they have
His sweet commands fulfil.]
They
find access at every hour
To God within the veil;
Hence they derive a quick'ning power,
And joys that never fail.
O
happy souls! O glorious state
Of overflowing grace!
To dwell so near their Father's seat,
And see his lovely face!
Lord,
I address thy heav'nly throne;
Call me a child of thine;
Send down the Spirit of thy Son
To form my heart divine.
There
shed thy choicest loves abroad,
And make my comforts strong:
Then shall I say, "My Father God!"
With an unwav'ring tongue.
Isaac
Watts
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Father's
Day Poem 57
Hymn 64
Adoption.
1
John 3:1ff; Gal. 4:6.
Behold
what wondrous grace
The Father has bestowed
On sinners of a mortal race,
To call them sons of God!
'Tis
no surprising thing
That we should be unknown;
The Jewish world knew not their king,
God's everlasting Son.
Nor
doth it yet appear
How great we must be made;
But when we see our Savior here,
We shall be like our Head.
A
hope so much divine
May trials well endure;
May purge our souls from sense and sin,
As Christ the Lord is pure.
If
in my Father's love
I share a filial part,
Send down thy Spirit like a dove,
To rest upon my heart.
We
would no longer lie
Like slaves beneath the throne;
My faith shall Abba, Father, cry,
And thou the kindred own.
Isaac
Watts
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Father's
Day Poem 58
Price Lake:
1961
Mouths shackled, dead or dying,
the bluegills, rainbows and browns
dangled from shiny metal
my father had thrown like chain
into the shallows, noon sun
shivering the lake's surface
like mirage as snake doctors
zigged and zagged—deep-blue needles
threading air. My bobber snagged
again in reeds, hot and tired,
I entered a grabble of briars,
tightroped a creek-board to where
my parents lay on a bank
blanketed by cove-moss, each
turned to other, my mother's
hand tucked inside my father's
half-unbuttoned shirt, his hand
brushing ground-lint from her hair,
and in that moment I knew
I did not belong to them,
not in that moment, and though
the gift of that summer took
years to unveil, something stirred
even that day when they came
back to me, my mother's waist
cradled by my father's arm,
his free hand reaching to lift
the stringer. I remember
how it surfaced glistening
like a crystal chandelier,
the fish shimmering color
as if raised in prism-light.
Ron
Rash
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Father's
Day Poem 59
The Ballad of
Father O'Hart
Good Father John O'Hart
In penal days rode out
To a Shoneen who had free lands
And his own snipe and trout.
In trust took he John's lands;
Sleiveens were all his race;
And he gave them as dowers to his daughters.
And they married beyond their place.
But Father John went up,
And Father John went down;
And he wore small holes in his Shoes,
And he wore large holes in his gown.
All loved him, only the shoneen,
Whom the devils have by the hair,
From the wives, and the cats, and the children,
To the birds in the white of the air.
The birds, for he opened their cages
As he went up and down;
And he said with a smile, 'Have peace now';
And he went his way with a frown.
But if when anyone died
Came keeners hoarser than rooks,
He bade them give over their keening;
For he was a man of books.
And these were the works of John,
When, weeping score by score,
People came into Colooney;
For he'd died at ninety-four.
There was no human keening;
The birds from Knocknarea
And the world round Knocknashee
Came keening in that day.
The young birds and old birds
Came flying, heavy and sad;
Keening in from Tiraragh,
Keening from Ballinafad;
Keening from Inishmurray.
Nor stayed for bite or sup;
This way were all reproved
Who dig old customs up.
William
Butler Yeats
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Father's
Day Poem 60
The Drunkard's
Child
He stood beside his dying child,
With a dim and bloodshot eye;
They'd won him from the haunts of vice
To see his first-born die.
He came with a slow and staggering tread,
A vague, unmeaning stare,
And, reeling, clasped the clammy hand,
So deathly pale and fair.
In
a dark and gloomy chamber,
Life ebbing fast away,
On a coarse and wretched pallet,
The dying sufferer lay:
A smile of recognition
Lit up the glazing eye;
"I'm very glad," it seemed to say,
"You've come to see me die."
That
smile reached to his callous heart,
It sealed fountains stirred;
He tried to speak, but on his lips
Faltered and died each word.
And burning tears like rain
Poured down his bloated face,
Where guilt, remorse and shame
Had scathed, and left their trace.
"My
father!" said the dying child,
~ His voice was faint and low,
"Oh! clasp me closely to your heart,
And kiss me ere I go.
Bright angels beckon me away,
To the holy city fair --
Oh! tell me, Father, ere I go,
Say, will you meet me there?"
He
clasped him to his throbbing heart,
"I will! I will!" he said;
His pleading ceased -- the father held
His first-born and his dead!
The marble brow, with golden curls,
Lay lifeless on his breast;
Like sunbeams on the distant clouds
Which line the gorgeous west.
Frances
Ellen Watkins
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When
God Created Fathers
When
the good Lord was creating fathers, He started with a tall frame. And a female
angel nearby said, "What kind of father is that? If you’re going
to make children so close to the ground, why have you put fathers up so high?
He won’t be able to shoot marbles without kneeling, tuck a child in bed
without bending, or even kiss a child without a lot of stooping."
And
God smiled and said, "Yes, but if I make him child size, who would children
have to look up to?"
And
when God made a father’s hands, they were large and sinewy.
And
the angel shook her head sadly and said, "Do You know what You’re
doing? Large hands are clumsy. They can’t manage diaper pins, small buttons,
rubber bands on pony tails or even remove splinters caused by baseball bats."
God
smiled and said, "I know, but they’re large enough to hold everything
a small boy empties from his pockets at the end of a day…yet small enough
to cup a child’s face."
Then
God molded long, slim legs and broad shoulders.
The
angel nearly had a heart attack. "Boy, this is the end of the week, all
right," she clucked. "Do You realize You just made a father without
a lap? How is he going to pull a child close to him without the kid falling
between his legs?"
God
smiled and said, "A mother needs a lap. A father needs strong shoulders
to pull a sled, balance a boy on a bicycle or hold a sleepy head on the way
home from the circus."
God
was in the middle of creating two of the largest feet anyone had ever seen when
the angel could contain herself no longer. "That’s not fair. Do You
honestly think those large boats are going to dig out of bed early in the morning
when the baby cries? Or walk through a small birthday party without crushing
at least three of the guests?"
And
God smiled and said, "They’ll work. You’ll see. They’ll
support a small child who wants to "ride a horse to Banbury Cross"
or scare off mice at the summer cabin, or display shoes that will be a challenge
to fill."
God
worked throughout the night, giving the father few words, but a firm authoritative
voice; eyes that see everything, but remain calm and tolerant.
Finally,
almost as an afterthought, He added tears. Then He turned to the angel and said,
"Now are you satisfied that he can love as much as a mother?"
And
the angel shutteth up!
~ Erma Bombeck.
Dad's
Favorite Sayings!
* Go
ask your mother!
* Just wait until I get you home!
* I love you, son!
* I love you, princess!
* When I was your age....
* My father used to tell me...
* I used to walk to school in the snow!
* Be home early.
* That's not a tear, I have something in my eye.
Father's
Day Quotations
"Honour
thy father and thy mother" stands written among the three laws of most
revered righteousness.
~ Aeschylus (Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day
Quotations)
He didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.
~ Clarence Budington Kelland
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard. Mother would come
out and say, "You're tearing up the grass." "We're not raising
grass," Dad would reply. "We're raising boys."
~ Harmon Killebrew
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
One father is more than a hundred Schoolemasters.
~ George Herbert, Outlandish Proverbs, 1640
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
Fatherhood is pretending the present you love most is soap-on-a-rope.
~ Bill Cosby
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
Father! - to God himself we cannot give a holier name.
~ William Wordsworth
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
Henry James once defined life as that predicament which precedes death, and
certainly nobody owes you a debt of honor or gratitude for getting him into
that predicament. But a child does owe his father a debt, if Dad, having gotten
him into this peck of trouble, takes off his coat and buckles down to the job
of showing his son how best to crash through it.
~ Clarence Budington Kelland
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
A father is always making his baby into a little woman. And when she is a woman
he turns her back again.
~ Enid Bagnold
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons.
~ Johann Schiller
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
A father carries pictures where his money used to be.
~ Author Unknown
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
Blessed indeed is the man who hears many gentle voices call him father!
~ Lydia M. Child, Philothea: A Romance, 1836
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
When I was a boy of fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand
to have the old man around. But when I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished
at how much he had learned in seven years.
~ Mark Twain, "Old Times on the Mississippi" Atlantic Monthly, 1874
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes.
~ Gloria Naylor
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
There's something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when
he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough
for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love
itself.
~ John Gregory Brown, Decorations in a Ruined Cemetery, 1994
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
It kills you to see them grow up. But I guess it would kill you quicker if they
didn't.
~ Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
It would seem that something which means poverty, disorder and violence every
single day should be avoided entirely, but the desire to beget children is a
natural urge.
~ Phyllis Diller
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
Are we not like two volumes of one book?
~ Marceline Desbordes-Valmore
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to
have your heart go walking around outside your body.
~ Elizabeth Stone
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
Never raise your hand to your kids. It leaves your groin unprotected.
~ Red Buttons
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
I don't care how poor a man is; if he has family, he's rich.
~ Colonel Potter
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
There's one sad truth in life I've found
While journeying east and west -
The only folks we really wound
Are those we love the best.
We flatter those we scarcely know,
We please the fleeting guest,
And deal full many a thoughtless blow
To those who love us best.
~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having
neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all out, just
as they are, chaff and grain together, certain that a faithful hand will take
and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness blow
the rest away.
~ Dinah Craik
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
Sherman made the terrible discovery that men make about their fathers sooner
or later... that the man before him was not an aging father but a boy, a boy
much like himself, a boy who grew up and had a child of his own and, as best
he could, out of a sense of duty and, perhaps love, adopted a role called Being
a Father so that his child would have something mythical and infinitely important:
a Protector, who would keep a lid on all the chaotic and catastrophic possibilities
of life.
~ Tom Wolfe, The Bonfire of the Vanities
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
Spread the diaper in the position of the diamond with you at bat. Then fold
second base down to home and set the baby on the pitcher's mound. Put first
base and third together, bring up home plate and pin the three together. Of
course, in case of rain, you gotta call the game and start all over again.
~ Jimmy Piersal, on how to diaper a baby, 1968
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"By
the time a man realizes that maybe his father was right,
he usually has a son who thinks he's wrong."
~ Charles Wadsworth
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"A
wise son makes a glad father, But a foolish son is the grief of his mother."
~ Solomon - Proverbs 10:1 NKJV
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"One
night a father overheard his son pray: Dear God, Make me the kind of man my
Daddy is. Later that night, the Father prayed, Dear God, Make me the kind of
man my son wants me to be."
~ Unknown
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"A
righteous man hates lying, But a wicked man is loathsome and comes to shame."
~ Solomon - Proverbs 13:5 NKJV
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"The
righteous man walks in his integrity; His children are blessed after him."
~ Solomon - Proverbs 20:7 NKJV
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"Honor
your father and your mother,
that your days may be long upon the land which the LORD your God is giving you."
~ Exodus 20:12
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations) |
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"When
I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the
old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old
man had learned in seven years."
~ Mark Twain
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"If
you want your children to improve, let them overhear the nice things you say
about them to others. "
~ Haim Ginott
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"Don't
handicap your children by making their lives easy."
~ Robert A. Heinlein
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"It
is unreasonable [for a father] to expect moral success with [his] children without
submitting
to the laws of morality."
~ Larry Christenson
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"Becoming
a man means integrity...staying true to God's Word...being responsible to others,
regardless of their social position in life...loving the unlovable...humbling
oneself."
~ Bob Welch
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"There
is no friendship, no love, like that of the parent for the child."
~ Beecher
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"An
effective father devotes himself to become an instrument and model of human
experience to his children...accepts and affirms his children for who they are,
appreciates them for what they are accomplishing, and covers them with affection
because they are his."
~ Gordon MacDonald
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"The
most effective guard against delinquency is a father who is at the same time
both
strict and loving."
~ Sheldon Glueck
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"You
don't need to be right all the time. Your child wants a man for a father
not a formula. He wants real parents, real people capable
of making mistakes without moping about it."
~ C. D. Williams
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"To
be in your children's memories tomorrow, you have to be in their lives today."
~ Barbara Johnson
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"Manhood
has less to do with age than with enlightenment...With commitment...With repentance...It's
found in the hearts of men, in a form of such attributes as courage, humility,
and vulnerability."
~ Bob Welch
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"Listen to your father who begot you, And do not despise your mother when
she is old."
~ Solomon - Proverbs 23:22 NKJV
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"Whoever
loves wisdom makes his father rejoice, But a companion of harlots wastes his
wealth."
~ Proverbs 29:3 NKJV
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"He
didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it."
~ Clarence Budington Kelland
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"A
truly rich man is one whose children run into his arms when his hands are empty."
~ Unknown
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"Another
thing I liked about my Dad at church: he did his sleeping at home.
He never used the church as an adult nursery."
~ Vance Havner
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"When
you teach your son, you teach your son's son."
~ The Talmud
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"The
Hebrew word for parents is horim, and it comes from the same root
as moreh, teacher. The parent is, and remains, the first and most
important teacher that the child will ever have."
~ Rabbi Kassel Abelson
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
If
a child lives with criticism, he learns to condemn.
If a child lives with hostility, he learns to fight.
If a child lives with fear, he learns to be apprehensive.
If a child lives with jealousy, he learns to feel guilty.
If a child lives with tolerance, he learns to be patient.
If a child lives with encouragement, he learns to be confident.
If a child lives with praise, he learns to be appreciative.
If a child lives with acceptance, he learns to love.
If a child lives with approval, he learns to like himself.
If a child lives with recognition, he learns it is good to have a goal.
If a child lives with honesty, he learns what truth is.
If a child lives with fairness, he learns justice.
If a child lives with security, he learns to have faith in himself and those
about him.
If a child lives with approval, he learns to like himself.
If a child lives with acceptance and friendship, he learns to find love in the
world."
~ Dorothy Nolte
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
"Children
seldom misquote you. They more often repeat word for word
what you shouldn't have said."
~ Mae Maloo
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
On
President Theodore Roosevelt; in "Celebrity Register," by Cleveland
Amory and Earl Blackwell, 1963. My father always wanted to be the corpse at
every funeral, the bride at every wedding and the baby at every christening.
~ Alice RooseveltLongworth
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
The
brotherhood of man is an integral part of Christianity no less than the Fatherhood
of God; and to deny the one is no less infidel than to deny the other.
~ LymanAbbott
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
O
what their joy and their glory must be, Those endless sabbaths the blessed ones
see! crowns for the valiant, for weary ones rest: God shall be all, and in all
ever blest. Truly Jerusalem name we that shore, vision of peace that brings
hope evermore; wish and fulfillment shall severed be ne'er, nor the thing prayed
for come short of the prayer. There, where no trouble distraction can bring,
we the sweet anthems of Zion shall sing, while for thy grace, Lord, their voices
of praise thy blessed people eternally raise. Now, in the meantime, with hearts
raised on high, we for that country must yearn and must sigh, seeking Jerusalem,
dear native land, through the long exile on Babylon's strand. Low before him
with our praises we fall, of whom, and in whom, and through whom are all; of
whom, the Father; and in whom, the Son; through whom, the Spirit, with both
ever one.
~ Peter PierreAbélard
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
When
on life’s journey it becomes our lot to travel with criticism of skeptics,
the hate of some, the rejection of others, the impatience of many, or a friend’s
betrayal, we must be able to pray in such a manner that an abiding faith and
a strong testimony that the Lord will be with us to the end, will compel us
to say, “Nevertheless, Father, Thy will be done, and with Thy help, in
patience I will follow firmly on the path that takes me back to Thee.”
~ AngelAbrea
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
My
grandfather always said that living is like licking honey off a thorn.
~ LouisAdamic
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
Think
of your forefathers! Think of your posterity!
~ John QuincyAdams
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
Does
faith begin to fail . . . ? Say not the Father hath not heard your prayer; You
shall have your desire, sometime, somewhere.
~ Ophelia G.Adams
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
Father
asked us what was God's noblest work. Anna said men, but I said babies. Men
are often bad, but babies never are.
~ Louisa MayAlcott
(Father's Day Quotes, Father's Day Quotations)
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