IF your parent should be dressed in paint and fierce array, Perhaps you'd think you'd be afraid and run and hide away; But the Indian child at home who sees his father so, Doesn't mind the paint and things, but laughs to see him go Out to the woods to hunt; and the father waves his hand And laughs back as all fathers do in every kind of land. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO-MORROW TO FRESH WOODS AND PASTURES NEW' by AMY LOWELL A LITTLE GIRL'S PRAYER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD ON A YOUNG LADY'S SIXTH ANNIVERSARY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE LAST JUDGMENT by JOHN CROWE RANSOM CAPUT MORTUUM by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |