Explore "To My Father" by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Tired with the little follies of the day, / A child crept, sobbing, to your arms to say / Her evening prayer; and if by God or you / Forgiven and loved, she never asked or knew.
With life's mistake and care too early old, / And spent with sorrow upon sorrow told, / She finds the father's heart the surest rest; / The earliest love shall be the last and best.