Even as I used to rumple his gray hair -- Tempering its dignity -- so, now, I strew His sombre grave with heliotrope's fair hue And drape with clover chains the headstone bare. Then, in the tall, lush grass above him there I sprawl and talk with him an hour or two, Planning the many things I hope to do, Placing my heart's rich treasure in his care. Small comfort mine, you think? So think all those Who walk beside a father, hear his voice, And know his full affection. They suppose That only those so favored can rejoice. At this we smile in secret, Dad and I; We know that fathers never really die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBERT GOULD SHAW by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR OF THE WARS IN IRELAND by JOHN HARRINGTON SACRED LYRIC by ISIDORE G. ASCHER BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. THE FIFTH SONG by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) OUR OLD CENTER-TOWN VERMONT MEETINGHOUSE by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |