Randall, my son, before you me just now
I saw the lean vine fingering at the latch,
And through the rain I heard the poplar bough
Thresh at the blinds it never used to touch,
And I was old and troubled overmuch,
And called in the deep night, but there was none
To comfort me or answer, Randall, my son.
But mount the stair and lay you down till morn.
The bed is made-the lamp is burning low.
Within the changeless room where you were born
I wait the changing day when you must go.
I am unreconciled to what I know,
And I am old with questions never done
That will not let me slumber, Randall, my son.
Randall, my son, I cannot hear the cries
That lure beyond familiar fields, or see
The glitter of the world that draws your eyes.
Cold is the mistress that beckons you from me.
I wish her sleek; hunting might never come to be-
For in our woods where deer and fox still run
An old horn blows at daybreak, Randall, my son.
And tell me then, will you some day bequeath
To your own son not born or yet begotten,
The lustre of a sword that sticks in sheath,
A house that crumbles and a fence that’s rotten?
Take, what I leave, your own land unforgotten;
Hear, what I hear, in a far chase new begun
An old horn’s husky music, Randall, my son.
(Donald Grady Davidson)
More Poetry from Donald Grady Davidson:
Donald Grady Davidson Poems based on Topics: Sons, World, Music, Night, Cry- Lee In The Mountains (Donald Grady Davidson Poems)
- Sanctuary (Donald Grady Davidson Poems)
- Sequel Of Appomattox (Donald Grady Davidson Poems)
- On A Replica Of The Parthenon (Donald Grady Davidson Poems)
- Twilight On Union Street (Donald Grady Davidson Poems)
- Lines For A Tomb (Donald Grady Davidson Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: World Poems, Night Poems, Cry Poems, Sons Poems, Music PoemsBased on Keywords: fingering, unreconciled, randall