Our Contribution

Poemata 34

Van Gogh - Pollard Willow

Once children we were, our fathers
Bore us up in their arms to rise
And reaching, touch the skies;

But in fact for you and every other
You rose but as high as he could lift
Once a giant, this his only gift;

Now children you have, O fathers
And still and far the heaven lies
The child you lift believes he flies;

You give yourself to every other
That you have you give, you make
Your gift, to give and not to take.

But know, O ye whose fathers
Once handed them this sacred trust
Come soon the time, in time it must

When you have naught for others
So long you both must hope and live
But the chance for them to give.