Author J. A. Pott Your budding beard is shorn — the day Hath earned a double rite, For on this lucky date in May Your father saw the light. On him hath Fortune never frowned — To-day his life began In happiness that now is crowned — His son becomes a man. 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