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Edgar Guest - The Father Of The Man
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I can`t help thinkin` o` the lad!
  Here`s summer bringin` trees to fruit,
An` every bush with roses clad,
  An` nature in her finest suit,
An` all things as they used to be
  In days before the war came on.
Yet time has changed both him an` me,
  An` I am here, but he is gone.

The orchard`s as it was back then
  When he was just a little tyke;
The lake`s as calm an` fair as when
  We used to go to fish for pike.
There`s nothing different I can see
  That God has made about the place,
Except the change in him an` me,
  An` that is difficult to trace.

I only know one day he came
  An` found me in the barn alone.
To some he might have looked the same,
  But he was not the lad I`d known.
His soul, it seemed, had heard the call
  As plainly as a mortal can.
Before he spoke to me at all,
  I saw my boy become a man.

I can`t explain just what occurred;
  I sat an` talked about it there;
The dinner-bell I never heard,
  Or if I did, I didn`t care.
But suddenly it seemed to me
  Out of the dark there came a light,
An` in a new way I could see
  That I was wrong an` he was right.

I can`t help thinkin` o` the lad!
  He`s fightin` hate an` greed an` lust,
An` here am I, his doting dad,
  Believin` in a purpose just.
Time was I talked the joy o` play,
  But now life`s goal is all I see;
The petty thoughts I`ve put away--
  My boy has made a man o` me.
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