Only a Dad
Only a dad, with a tired face,
Coming home from the daily race,
Bringing little of gold or fame,
To show how well he has played the game,
But glad in his heart that his own rejoice
To see him come, and to hear his voice.
Only a dad, with a brood of four,
One of ten million men or more.
Plodding along in the daily strife,
Bearing the whips and the scorns of life,
With never a whimper of pain or hate,
For the sake of those who at home await.
Only a dad, neither rich nor proud,
Merely one of the surging crowd
Toiling, striving from day to day,
Facing whatever may come his way,
Silent, whenever the harsh condemn,
And bearing it all for the love of them.
Only a dad, but he gives his all
To smooth the way for his children small,
Doing, with courage stern and grim,
The deeds that his father did for him.
This is the line that for him I pen,
Only a dad, but the best of men.
From the book "A Heap o' Livin'" ©1916
Albie's Note: That's an unpecedented 2 in a row from Mr. Guest, but I couldn't resist on Dad's Day! I actually had a Dad like this [only his brood was SEVEN!]... If I could BE this good a Dad as well...
Well, that would be the thing, wouldn't it?
PEACE
3 comments:
Matches my Dad perfectly. Thanks for posting it.
And to think I was a dad, "with a brood of four," also. Those times went fast, when the kids were growing up. Too fast. Thanks for the memories!
OSCAR and NEIL: Thanks for stoppin' by, swell Dads!
PEACE to ya both, amigos!
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