This Is Father's Day

What is father's day to Dads? This first poem reflects the thoughts of a Dad about Father's Day. What is neat about the poem is that the Father feels each day is Father's Day, read the verses to find out why.

And, the second poem discusses wishes that a Father has for their son (or also could be for a daughter). Both of these poems are examples of what Dad's think about!

By Catherine Pulsifer, Updated August 27, 2024


Fathers Day Poems    /   This Is Father's Day



This Is Father's Day
Poet: Hugh Cleveland


So this is Father's Day!
And maybe it is so,
The papers say it is,
And surely they must know.

Besides, throughout the day
Has come the welcome cheer
Of letters, cards and gifts
From those I hold most dear.

And each note bears these words:
"To Dad" - who through the year
Has worked without reward
Neglected, sad and drear!

I love each word they say,
Although too well I know
How very wrong are they
In sympathizing so.

For every day - each hour -
Throughout the fleeting year,
Brings happiness to flood
My heart with joy sincere

That I can work for love
Of those whose love, I pray,
Will always match Dad's love -
Each day is Father's Day.


Every day is Father's Day when love is the reward. The joy of being a dad comes from the endless love shared, not just on  Father's Day, but every day.


Wishes For My Son
Poet: Thomas MacDonagh


Now, my son, is life for you,
And I wish you joy of it -
Joy of power in all you do,
Deeper passion, better wit
Than I had who had enough,
Quicker life and length thereof,
More of every gift but love.

Love I have beyond all men,
Love that now you share with me -
What have I to wish you then
But that you be good and free,
And that God to you may give
Grace in stronger days to live?

For I wish you more than I
Ever knew of glorious deed,
Though no rapture passed me by
That an eager heart could heed,
Though I followed heights and sought
Things the sequel never brought.

Wild and perilous holy things
Flaming with a martyr’s blood,
And the joy that laughs and sings
Where a foe must be withstood,
Joy of headlong happy chance
Leading on the battle dance.

But I found no enemy,
No man in a world of wrong,
That Christ’s word of charity
Did not render clean and strong —
Who was I to judge my kind,
Blindest groper of the blind?

God to you may give the sight
And the clear, undoubting strength
Wars to knit for single right,
Freedom’s war to knit at length,
And to win through wrath and strife,
To the sequel of my life.

But for you, so small and young,
I in more harmonious song
Now for nearer joys should pray —
Simpler joys: the natural growth
Of your childhood and your youth,
Courage, innocence and truth:
These for you, so small and young,
In your hand and heart and tongue.


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