关于父亲的英文诗歌精选

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　父爱是一阵微风
，让你的思想即使沾上肮脏的污垢也能焕然一新
。我整理了关于父亲的英文诗歌，欢迎阅读!

关于父亲的英文诗歌篇一

　My Dad's Hands

　Bedtime came, we were settling down,

　I was holding one of my lads.

　As I grasped him so tight, I saw a strange sight:

　My hands. . .they looked like my dad's!

　I remember them well, those old gnarled hooks,

　there was always a cracked nail or two.

　And thanks to a hammer that strayed from its mark,

　his thumb was a beautiful blue!

　They were rough, I remember, incredibly tough,

　as strong as a carpenter's vice.

　But holding a scared little boy at night,

　they seemed to me awfully nice!

　The sight of those hands - how impressive it was

　in the eyes of his little boy.

　Other dads' hands were cleaner, it seemed

　(the effects of their office employ).

　I gave little thought in my formative years

　of the reason for Dad's raspy mitts:

　The love in the toil, the dirt and the oil,

　rusty plumbing that gave those hands fits!

　Thinking back, misty-eyed, and thinking ahead,

　when one day my time is done.

　The torch of love in my own wrinkled hands

　will pass on to the hands of my son.

　I don't mind the bruises, the scars here and there

　or the hammer that just seemed to slip.

　I want most of all when my son takes my hand,

　to feel that love lies in the grip.

　--David Kettler

关于父亲的英文诗歌篇二

　Father's Day

　Over the years

　As we grow old,

　We remember our father

　So brave and bold.

　In the garden,

　Leaning on the plow,

　He would listen to me;

　I see him now.

　He would give advice

　And understand;

　He was always there

　To lend a hand.

　God made fathers

　Strong and firm,

　For he knew our lives

　Would have great concerns.

　So he gave us fathers

　To teach us to pray,

　And guide our lives,

　And show us the way.

　So on his day

　Let's take the time

　To say "Thanks, dad.

　I'm glad you're mine."

　Mary Frances Bogle

关于父亲的英文诗歌篇三

　My Dad

　When I was just a tiny kid,

　Do you remember when,

　The time you kissed my bruises,

　Or cleaned by soiled chin?

　You scrambled for the balls I hit,

　(Short-winded more than not,)

　Yet, every time we'd play a game,

　You praised the "outs" I caught.

　It seems like only yesterday,

　You wiped away my tears,

　And late at night I called your name,

　To chase away my fears.

　Though time has changed your handsome grip,

　Your hair is snowy white,

　You gait's a little slower now,

　Thick glasses help your sight.

　Oh, do I thirst for years gone by,

　To be that growing lad,

　Re-living all of the memories,

　Of growing with my dad.

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