A Poem for Dad!

In our search for worthy Father’s Day gift ideas, we stumbled upon an article entitled “Famous Fathers Day Poems”. Celebrate Dad with a bottle from our selection of fine red wines— thoughtful, bold, and timeless, just like him. We would like to share this with you. You can choose one poem to recite in front of your Dad or you can let somebody do it for you like your child for instance or Dad’s youngest granddaughter. These poems are compiled by P. Banas published in ezinearticles.com.

Father's Day Poem #1: A Poem for Dads

Though we may not shower him with praise
Nor mention his name in song,
Though sometimes it seems that we forget
The joy he spreads as he goes along,

It doesn't mean that we don't know
The wonderful role that he has had.
And away down deep in every heart
There's a place that is just for Dad.....

- Anonymous

Father's Day Poem #2: Admiring fathers

Look at him there in his stovepipe hat,
His high-top shoes, and his handsome collar;
Only my Daddy could look like that,
And I love my Daddy like he loves his Dollar.

- William Jay Smith

Father's Day Poem #3: To My Father

It matters not that Time has shed
His thawless snow upon your head,
For he maintains, with wondrous art,
Perpetual summer in your heart.

- William Hamilton Hayne

Father's Day Poem #4: The Child Is Father to the Man

"The child is father to the man."
How can he be? The words are wild.
Suck any sense from that who can:
"The child is father to the man."

No; what the poet did write ran,
"The man is father to the child."
"The child is father to the man!"
How can he be? The words are wild.

- Gerard Manley Hopkins

Father's Day Poem #5: The Little Boy Lost

"Father! Father! where are you going?
O do not walk so fast.
Speak, father, speak to your little boy,
Or else I shall be lost."

The night was dark, no father was there;
The child was wet with dew;
The mire was deep, & the child did weep,
And away the vapor flew.

- William Blake

Father's Day Poem #6: Anecdote for Fathers

I have a boy of five years old;
His face is fair and fresh to see;
His limbs are cast in beauty's mould,
And dearly he loves me.

One morn we strolled on our dry walk,
Our quiet home all full in view,
And held such intermitted talk
As we are wont to do.

My thoughts on former pleasures ran;
I thought of Kilve's delightful shore,
Our pleasant home when spring began,
A long, long year before.

A day it was when I could bear
Some fond regrets to entertain;
With so much happiness to spare,
I could not feel a pain.

The green earth echoed to the feet
Of lambs that bounded through the glade,
From shade to sunshine, and as fleet
From sunshine back to shade.

Birds warbled round me - and each trace
Of inward sadness had its charm;
Kilve, thought I, was a favored place,
And so is Liswyn farm.

My boy beside me tripped, so slim
And graceful in his rustic dress!
And, as we talked, I questioned him,
In very idleness.

"Now tell me, had you rather be,"
I said, and took him by the arm,
"On Kilve's smooth shore, by the green sea,
Or here at Liswyn farm?"

In careless mood he looked at me,
While still I held him by the arm,
And said, "At Kilve I'd rather be
Than here at Liswyn farm."

"Now, little Edward, say why so:
My little Edward, tell me why." --
"I cannot tell, I do not know." --
"Why, this is strange," said I;

"For, here are woods, hills smooth and warm:
There surely must some reason be
Why you would change sweet Liswyn farm
For Kilve by the green sea."

At this, my boy hung down his head,
He blushed with shame, nor made reply;
And three times to the child I said,
"Why, Edward, tell me why?"

His head he raised - there was in sight,
It caught his eye, he saw it plain --
Upon the house-top, glittering bright,
A broad and gilded vane.

Then did the boy his tongue unlock,
And eased his mind with this reply:
"At Kilve there was no weather-cock;
And that's the reason why."

O dearest, dearest boy! my heart
For better lore would seldom yearn,
Could I but teach the hundredth part
Of what from thee I learn.

- William Wordsworth