How lucky to have had so good a
father!
On us his warm, unstinting sun long shone.
We were, of his hardworking life, the center,
Loved for the pure joy of love alone.
Uncanny are the requisites of pleasure,
Coming as they do within the will.
Knowing well where lay his greatest treasure,
Years on years of love he labored still.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
