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Poem
January 9, 1808
Kentucky Gazette And General Advertiser
Lexington, Fayette County, Kentucky
What is this article about?
A reflective elegy honoring the poet's deceased father, recounting his nurturing guidance, shared explorations of nature and literature, moral teachings, and enduring influence on the poet's life.
Clipping
OCR Quality
95%
Excellent
Full Text
TO SOAR ALOFT ON FANCY'S WING.
MY FATHER.
Who took me from my mother's arms,
And smiling at her soft alarms,
Shewed me the world and nature's charms?
My Father.
Who made me feel and understand,
The wonders of the sea and land,
And mark through all, the Maker's hand?
My Father.
Who climb'd with me the mountain's height,
And watch'd my look of dread delight,
While rose the glorious orb of light?
My Father.
Who from each flower and verdant stalk,
Gather'd a honey'd store of talk.
To fill the long delightful walk?
My Father.
Nor strike the stinging insect dead—
Not on an insect would he tread,
Who taught at once my heart and head?
My Father.
Who wrote upon that heart the line
Paideia graved on virtue's shrine,
To make the human race divine?
My Father.
Who fir'd my breast with Homer's fame,
That nightly flashed upon my dream?
And taught the high heroic theme,
My Father.
Who smil'd at my supreme desire.
To see "the curling smoke" aspire,
From Ithaca's domestic fire?
My Father.
Upon the mast amidst the foam,
Who with Ulysses saw me roam,
His head still raised to look for home?
My Father.
"What made a barren rock so dear!"
"My Boy! he had a country there."
And who, then, dropt a prescient tear?
My Father.
Who, now, in pale and placid light
O memory, gleams upon my sight,
Bursting the sepulchre of night?
My Father.
O teach me still thy christian plan,
Thy practice with thy precept ran—
Nor yet desert me—now a man,
My Father.
Still let thy scholar's heart rejoice,
With charm of thy angelic voice—
Still prompt the motive and the choice,
My Father
For yet remains a little space,
Till I shall meet thee face to face,
And not as now, in vain embrace,
My Father.
MY FATHER.
Who took me from my mother's arms,
And smiling at her soft alarms,
Shewed me the world and nature's charms?
My Father.
Who made me feel and understand,
The wonders of the sea and land,
And mark through all, the Maker's hand?
My Father.
Who climb'd with me the mountain's height,
And watch'd my look of dread delight,
While rose the glorious orb of light?
My Father.
Who from each flower and verdant stalk,
Gather'd a honey'd store of talk.
To fill the long delightful walk?
My Father.
Nor strike the stinging insect dead—
Not on an insect would he tread,
Who taught at once my heart and head?
My Father.
Who wrote upon that heart the line
Paideia graved on virtue's shrine,
To make the human race divine?
My Father.
Who fir'd my breast with Homer's fame,
That nightly flashed upon my dream?
And taught the high heroic theme,
My Father.
Who smil'd at my supreme desire.
To see "the curling smoke" aspire,
From Ithaca's domestic fire?
My Father.
Upon the mast amidst the foam,
Who with Ulysses saw me roam,
His head still raised to look for home?
My Father.
"What made a barren rock so dear!"
"My Boy! he had a country there."
And who, then, dropt a prescient tear?
My Father.
Who, now, in pale and placid light
O memory, gleams upon my sight,
Bursting the sepulchre of night?
My Father.
O teach me still thy christian plan,
Thy practice with thy precept ran—
Nor yet desert me—now a man,
My Father.
Still let thy scholar's heart rejoice,
With charm of thy angelic voice—
Still prompt the motive and the choice,
My Father
For yet remains a little space,
Till I shall meet thee face to face,
And not as now, in vain embrace,
My Father.
What sub-type of article is it?
Elegy
Ode
What themes does it cover?
Death Mourning
Moral Virtue
Religious Faith
What keywords are associated?
Father Elegy
Moral Guidance
Homer Influence
Ulysses Adventure
Christian Precept
Memory Tribute
Poem Details
Title
My Father.
Subject
Tribute To The Poet's Father
Form / Style
Rhymed Stanzas With Refrain
Key Lines
Who Took Me From My Mother's Arms,
And Smiling At Her Soft Alarms,
Shewed Me The World And Nature's Charms?
My Father.
Who Fir'd My Breast With Homer's Fame,
That Nightly Flashed Upon My Dream?
And Taught The High Heroic Theme,
My Father.
Who, Now, In Pale And Placid Light
O Memory, Gleams Upon My Sight,
Bursting The Sepulchre Of Night?
My Father.
O Teach Me Still Thy Christian Plan,
Thy Practice With Thy Precept Ran—
Nor Yet Desert Me—Now A Man,
My Father.
For Yet Remains A Little Space,
Till I Shall Meet Thee Face To Face,
And Not As Now, In Vain Embrace,
My Father.