"@3Thy father was transfused into thy blood@1." @3Dryden: Ode to Mrs. Anne Killigrew@1. OUR father works in us, The daughters of his manhood. Not undone Is he, not wasted, though transmuted thus, And though he left no son. Therefore on him I cry To arm me: "For my delicate mind a casque, A breastplate for my heart, courage to die, Of thee, captain, I ask. "Nor strengthen only; press A finger on this violent blood and pale, Over this rash will let thy tenderness A while pause, and prevail. "And shepherd-father, thou Whose staff folded my thoughts before my birth, Control them now I am of earth, and now Thou art no more of earth. "O liberal, constant, dear! Crush in my nature the ungenerous art Of the inferior; set me high, and here, Here garner up thy heart." Like to him now are they, The million living fathers of the War -- Mourning the crippled world, the bitter day -- Whose striplings are no more. The crippled world! Come then, Fathers of women with your honour in trust; Approve, accept, know them daughters of men, Now that your sons are dust. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UPON A DYING LADY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS A WOMAN'S SHORTCOMINGS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING LACK OF STEADFASTNESS; BALLAD by GEOFFREY CHAUCER A BANJO SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR |