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.
~
~
~~By Edgar A. Guest (1916)~~
-http://poetry.about.com/od/poems/l/blguestonlyadad.htm
