Author J. A. Pott Here may we trace the aspect that he wore In childhood's hour, the bud but not the flower; His sire forbore to paint his manhood's grace, Lest evermore grief should renew her power Standing before that loved and silent face. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments