Memory Of My Father
Every old man I see
Reminds me of my father
When he had fallen in love with death
One time when sheaves were gathered.
That man I saw in Gardner Street
Stumbled on the kerb was one,
He stared at me half-eyed,
I might have been his son.
And I remember the musician
Faltering over his fiddle
In Bayswater, London,
He too set me the riddle.
Every old man I see
In October-coloured weather
Seems to say to me:
"I was once your father.
"
Poem by
Patrick Kavanagh
Biography |
Poems
| Best Poems | Short Poems
| Quotes
|
Email Poem |
More Poems by Patrick Kavanagh
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on Memory Of My Father
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem Memory Of My Father here.
Commenting turned off, sorry.