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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
REMEMBERED HANDS, by WINIFRED UPTON MCCAIG
First Line: My father's hands were long
Last Line: I feel his hand in mine.
Subject(s): Fathers
First Line: My father's hands were long
Last Line: I feel his hand in mine.
Subject(s): Fathers
My father's hands were long, palms finely lined,
Showing the thinker, teacher, lover of truth.
Yet they were strong and large,
Hands accustomed to toil.
They had milked cows, could handle horses well,
For they were masterful, but kind.
In my earliest childhood they led me gently
And strongly lifted me.
One incident so plainly etched in memory
A young girl unused to pain,
With my hand in his it could be bourne
His suffering was as mine.
Down through the years that handclasp was for me,
Something to tie to.
And to others friendship, honesty, and strength.
At last his earthly work was finished.
As he approached the valley where each must go alone,
His hand through days and sleepless nights
Still clung to mine,
As mine had clung to his in infancy.
And now though months have passed,
When night brings dreams to bless,
I feel his hand in mine.
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