Father

Used to wonder just why father

    Never had much time for play,

  Used to wonder why he'd rather

    Work each minute of the day.

  Used to wonder why he never

    Loafed along the road an' shirked;

  Can't recall a time whenever

    Father played while others worked.

                                          

  Father didn't dress in fashion,

    Sort of hated clothing new;

  Style with him was not a passion;

    He had other things in view.

  Boys are blind to much that's going

    On about 'em day by day,

  And I had no way of knowing

    What became of father's pay.

  All I knew was when I needed

    Shoes I got 'em on the spot;

  Everything for which I pleaded,

    Somehow, father always got.

  Wondered, season after season,

    Why he never took a rest,

  And that _I_ might be the reason

    Then I never even guessed.

  Father set a store on knowledge;

    If he'd lived to have his way

  He'd have sent me off to college

    And the bills been glad to pay.

  That, I know, was his ambition:

    Now and then he used to say

  He'd have done his earthly mission

    On my graduation day.

  Saw his cheeks were getting paler,

    Didn't understand just why;

  Saw his body growing frailer,

    Then at last I saw him die.

  Rest had come! His tasks were ended,

    Calm was written on his brow;

  Father's life was big and splendid,

    And I understand it now.

                                by Edgar Albert Guest