Famous Father’s Day Poems

Father’s Day is the best opportunity to express gratitude towards your father for all of his love and support. It is a time of family gatherings and the best time to give your dad a special card with warm messages, flowers and other gifts of love. Here is a collection of famous Fathers Day poems to write on the card you got for your dad or read it aloud to him and show him your love and how much you care.

  • My Dad and I
  • My dad and I-we think alike,
  • He knows just what I mean
  • Before I even say a word
  • He reads, well, in between.
  • My dad and I-we like to fish
  • Or build a model plane,
  • Or fix a broken chair or two
  • Or just a windowpane.
  • My dad and I-we know the score
  • Of every single game;
  • Sometimes he’s really busy, too
  • But he takes me just the same.


  • My dad and I-we go swimming too,
  • Each year and sometimes twice.
  • My dad and I-we do everything;
  • My dad-he’s really nice.
  • By Phyllis C. Michael


What to write in a Father’s Day card

  • 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.
  • By David Kettler


Famous Father’s Day Poems

Admiring fathers

Look at him there in his stovepipe hat,

His high-top shoes, and his handsome collar;

Only my Daddy could look like that,

And I love my Daddy like he loves his Dollar.

By William Jay Smith


On the Birth of His Son

Families, when a child is born

Want it to be intelligent.

I, through intelligence,

Having wrecked my whole life,

Only hope the baby will prove

Ignorant and stupid.

Then he will crown a tranquil life

By becoming a Cabinet Minister.

By Su Tung-p’o (c. 1070, trans. Arthur Waley, 1919)


To My Father

It matters not that Time has shed

His thawless snow upon your head,

For he maintains, with wondrous art,

Perpetual summer in your heart.

By William Hamilton Hayne


The Child Is Father to the Man

“The child is father to the man.”

How can he be? The words are wild.

Suck any sense from that who can:

“The child is father to the man.”

No; what the poet did write ran,

“The man is father to the child.”

“The child is father to the man!”

How can he be? The words are wild.

By Gerard Manley Hopkins


Epigrams: On my First Son

Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy;

My sin was too much hope of thee, lov’d boy.

Seven years tho’ wert lent to me, and I thee pay,

Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.

O, could I lose all father now! For why

Will man lament the state he should envy?

To have so soon ’scap’d world’s and flesh’s rage,

And if no other misery, yet age?

Rest in soft peace, and, ask’d, say, “Here doth lie

Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry.”

For whose sake henceforth all his vows be such,

As what he loves may never like too much.

By Ben Jonson (1616)


To Her Father with Some Verses

Most truly honoured, and as truly dear,

If worth in me or ought I do appear,

Who can of right better demand the same

Than may your worthy self from whom it came?

The principal might yield a greater sum,

Yet handled ill, amounts but to this crumb;

My stock’s so small I know not how to pay,

My bond remains in force unto this day;

Yet for part payment take this simple mite,

Where nothing’s to be had, kings loose their right.

Such is my debt I may not say forgive,

But as I can, I’ll pay it while I live;

Such is my bond, none can discharge but I,

Yet paying is not paid until I die.

By Anne Bradstreet (1678)


The Little Boy Lost

 “Father! father! where are you going?

O do not walk so fast.

Speak, father, speak to your little boy,

Or else I shall be lost.”

The night was dark, no father was there;

The child was wet with dew;

The mire was deep, & the child did weep,

And away the vapour flew.

 By William Blake (from Songs of Innocence, 1791)



 My father knows the proper way

The nation should be run;

He tells us children every day

Just what should now be done.

He knows the way to fix the trusts,

He has a simple plan;

But if the furnace needs repairs,

We have to hire a man.

My father, in a day or two

Could land big thieves in jail;

There’s nothing that he cannot do,

He knows no word like “fail.”

“Our confidence” he would restore,

Of that there is no doubt;

But if there is a chair to mend,

We have to send it out.

All public questions that arise,

He settles on the spot;

He waits not till the tumult dies,

But grabs it while it’s hot.

In matters of finance he can

Tell Congress what to do;

But, O, he finds it hard to meet

His bills as they fall due.

It almost makes him sick to read

The things law-makers say;

Why, father’s just the man they need,

He never goes astray.

All wars he’d very quickly end,

As fast as I can write it;

But when a neighbor starts a fuss,

’Tis mother has to fight it.

In conversation father can

Do many wondrous things;

He’s built upon a wiser plan

Than presidents or kings.

He knows the ins and outs of each

And every deep transaction;

We look to him for theories,

But look to ma for action.

By Edgar A. Guest (1909)


A Prayer for My Son

 Bid a strong ghost stand at the head

That my Michael may sleep sound,

Nor cry, nor turn in the bed

Till his morning meal come round;

And may departing twilight keep

All dread afar till morning’s back.

That his mother may not lack

Her fill of sleep.

Bid the ghost have sword in fist:

Some there are, for I avow

Such devilish things exist,

Who have planned his murder, for they know

Of some most haughty deed or thought

That waits upon his future days,

And would through hatred of the bays

Bring that to nought.

Though You can fashion everything

From nothing every day, and teach

The morning stats to sing,

You have lacked articulate speech

To tell Your simplest want, and known,

Wailing upon a woman’s knee,

All of that worst ignominy

Of flesh and bone;

And when through all the town there ran

The servants of Your enemy,

A woman and a man,

Unless the Holy Writings lie,

Hurried through the smooth and rough

And through the fertile and waste,

Protecting, till the danger past,

With human love.

 By William Butler Yeats (from The Tower, 1928)


  • 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.”
  • By Mary Frances Bogle
  • A Father Is:
  • There in every memory
  • See his love and care
  • Strength and hands to count on
  • Freely he does share
  • Provider, toil so faithfully
  • To make our dreams come true
  • Give strong and tender discipline
  • Though it is hard to do
  • A Father is God’s chosen one
  • To lead the family
  • And point it to His will for life
  • Of love and harmony…
  • By Sue Skeen

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