A REFORMER TO HIS FATHER We shared not one idea in thirty years Of occasional bicker and chat. One night of loud Useless argument, unique and useless tears Of mine surprised us. We paused, astute and proud, Unreconciled. I think I had stopped hearing Your words, and heard around me the rest, Unknown, remote and thought I was comparing The sound of your worse with their best. Subservient to love I bent my head Stiffly. You laughed; nervous, elated, and laid Nicotined fingers lightly on and said Nothing. Never again, and now you are dead; And still I labour to build a country fit For heroes, knowing you'd want no part of it. -- James Simmons (born 1933)