To My Father at Seventy-Five
A MID thy children's children and thy books,
Thy ready tools, thy garden's teeming mold,
Peace on thy lips and health in all thy looks,
Thou teachest the fine art of growing old.
Thy ready tools, thy garden's teeming mold,
Peace on thy lips and health in all thy looks,
Thou teachest the fine art of growing old.
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