R
Robert Harrison
Guest
I sat and smiled as I looked at the women, there were four,
All my dearest women; one my wife, and other my daughter
Talking happily with a grand daughter and my daughter in law.
While at their feet great grand children all in happy laughter,
Are playing together each with their dolls and cherished toys,
Two with curls that framed fair faces and dimpled pink cheek.
And companions boasting scabbed knees, typical young boys.
I sat and I smiled at what I had, that which all patriarchs seek.
As I look into each happy face I ask what part have I played
In this contented scene? And what path has yet still to be laid
Out before each one of my children so loved and oh so dear.
May I in old age leave to them a pathway so straight and clear
That their steps will be sure and steadfast, their values aright,
They to will leave behind during their stay a pathway as bright.
Epilogue
If I am fortunate to have a gravestone placed above my head,
let it read so that my memory lives on:-
When the present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay,
and the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings, delicate
filmed as new spun silk, let my family say, He was a father who taught
us such things.
All my dearest women; one my wife, and other my daughter
Talking happily with a grand daughter and my daughter in law.
While at their feet great grand children all in happy laughter,
Are playing together each with their dolls and cherished toys,
Two with curls that framed fair faces and dimpled pink cheek.
And companions boasting scabbed knees, typical young boys.
I sat and I smiled at what I had, that which all patriarchs seek.
As I look into each happy face I ask what part have I played
In this contented scene? And what path has yet still to be laid
Out before each one of my children so loved and oh so dear.
May I in old age leave to them a pathway so straight and clear
That their steps will be sure and steadfast, their values aright,
They to will leave behind during their stay a pathway as bright.
Epilogue
If I am fortunate to have a gravestone placed above my head,
let it read so that my memory lives on:-
When the present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay,
and the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings, delicate
filmed as new spun silk, let my family say, He was a father who taught
us such things.