I have no memory of his face, A bearded man or smooth and bare; I never heard my mother call My father either dark or fair. All I remember is a coat Of velvet, buttoned on his breast; Where I, when tired of fingering it, Would lay my childish head and rest. His voice was low and seldom heard, His body small -- I've heard it said; But his hoarse cough made children think Of monsters growling to be fed. If any children took that road, And heard my father coughing near, They whispered, 'Hist! Away, away -- There's some big giant lives in there!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RAND MCNALLY ATLAS by KAREN SWENSON SPRING STORM by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TO MY HONORED FRIEND SIR ROBERT HOWARD by JOHN DRYDEN ON FIRST ENTERING WESTMINSTER ABBEY by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY EASTER WINGS by GEORGE HERBERT THE STORY OF AUGUSTUS WHO WOULD NOT HAVE ANY SOUP by HEINRICH HOFFMANN THE WORD by WILLIAM WALSHAM HOW |