Used to wonder just why father <br />Never had much time for play, <br />Used to wonder why he'd rather <br />Work each minute of the day. <br />Used to wonder why he never <br />Loafed along the road an' shirked; <br />Can't recall a time whenever <br />Father played while others worked. <br /> <br />Father didn't dress in fashion, <br />Sort of hated clothing new; <br />Style with him was not a passion; <br />He had other things in view. <br />Boys are blind to much that's going <br />On about 'em day by day, <br />And I had no way of knowing <br />What became of father's pay. <br /> <br />All I knew was when I needed <br />Shoes I got 'em on the spot; <br />Everything for which I pleaded, <br />Somehow, father always got. <br />Wondered, season after season, <br />Why he never took a rest, <br />And that I might be the reason <br />Then I never even guessed. <br /> <br />Father set a store on knowledge; <br />If he'd lived to have his way <br />He'd have sent me off to college <br />And the bills been glad to pay. <br />That, I know, was his ambition: <br />Now and then he used to say <br />He'd have done his earthly mission <br />On my graduation day. <br /> <br />Saw his cheeks were getting paler, <br />Didn't understand just why; <br />Saw his body growing frailer, <br />Then at last I saw him die. <br />Rest had come! His tasks were ended, <br />Calm was written on his brow; <br />Father's life was big and splendid, <br />And I understand it now.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/father-163/
