My Father Loved Poetry

My sisters and I grew up listening to our father recite his favorite poems. Once memorized, he never forgot them and he could recite verses for hours on end when encouraged. However, what we all loved the most is the way he would snatch from the air a poem that perfectly fit the moment. Some examples:

And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew
That one small head could carry all he knew. ~ Oliver Goldsmith The Deserted Village

This one was meant to put us all back in our britches when our egos grew too large!

This above all – to thine own self be true, and it follows as night follows day, thou canst not be false to any man. ~ William Shakespeare Act I, Scene III, Hamlet

Whenever we were confused about standing up for what we believe, he sighted this one with great care.

The quality of mercy is not strain’d,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. ~ William Shakespeare The Merchant of Venice Act 4, Scene 1.

Dad often recited this one whenever there was an angry exchange or he listened to a news report of cruelty and violence.

There were fun poems as well that he quoted for us kids such as the Owl and the Pussycat.  Here are a couple of stanza’s:

I
The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
   In a beautiful pea-green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
   Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
   And sang to a small guitar,
“O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
    What a beautiful Pussy you are,
         You are,
         You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!”
II
Pussy said to the Owl, “You elegant fowl!
   How charmingly sweet you sing!
O let us be married! too long we have tarried:
   But what shall we do for a ring?”
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
   To the land where the Bong-Tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
   With a ring at the end of his nose,
             His nose,
             His nose,
   With a ring at the end of his nose.  ~ Edward Lear
Dad also smoked a pipe and loved a good glass of wine in the late afternoon. Here is a short video of Dad reciting his favorites. He was in his 90s when recorded.

2 thoughts on “My Father Loved Poetry

  1. Kitty

    Oh how I love Dad. Who would we have become without his love of the arts: Poetry, music, theater, etc. I am forever grateful for the wisdom he instilled in me through poetry and his own life experience. It is one of my Core Values and essential to living a balanced life of alignmnent to Source. And, also seeing the deep value in the simple things in life. A beautiful soul, our dad.

    1. Yes, and all the more remarkable that he was born on a little farm in a hamlet and managed somehow to reach outward through these great writers and composers and then he brought it all to us. You are right, he enriched our lives and understanding of the world through these things he loved.

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