Short funeral poems for dad
Start here if the poem has to fit on the back of a program, or if the person reading it is likely to struggle. The four verses below were written for this site. Use them as they are or change a word so they sound like your family.
The porch light
Memorial Templates · written for Memorial Templates
He left the porch light on for us on every night we came home late. Tonight we’ll leave it on for him and stand a minute by the gate.
Up before us
Memorial Templates · written for Memorial Templates
He was up before the rest of us, the coffee on, the truck warmed through. He’s gone ahead again this morning, the way he always used to do.
The bench
Memorial Templates · written for Memorial Templates
His tools still hang above the bench, each one inside its outlined space. He taught us all to put things back. We’ll keep the bench, and keep his place.
Showed up
Memorial Templates · written for Memorial Templates
He never said a lot. He showed up, every time, and that is how we learned what love looks like.
Well done
Matthew 25:21, King James Version, 1611
His lord said unto him, Well done, thou good and faithful servant: thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord.
The first words of this verse, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant,” often stand alone on a card or headstone for a man who worked hard all his life.
Poems for a dad who worked with his hands
If your dad was a farmer, a mechanic, a carpenter or a man who just couldn’t sit still on a Saturday, these poems are about the dignity of work and doing it well.
The Village Blacksmith
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1840
Under a spreading chestnut-tree The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands, And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp, and black, and long; His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate’er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low.
And children coming home from school Look in at the open door; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys; He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughter’s voice Singing in the village choir, And it makes his heart rejoice.
It sounds to him like her mother’s voice Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes.
Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing, Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night’s repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, For the lesson thou hast taught! Thus at the flaming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought.
The whole poem takes about three minutes to read. For a shorter reading, use the seventh stanza on its own, which begins “Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing.” It fits on a program and describes a working life in six lines. The poem also mentions the smith’s late wife, which makes it a gentle fit if your dad was a widower.
If—
Rudyard Kipling, 1910
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too: If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being hated don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master; If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim, If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same: If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breathe a word about your loss: If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you, If all men count with you, but none too much: If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
Kipling wrote “If—” as a father’s advice to his son. Many families choose it when a son is doing the reading, because the last line lands on “my son.” If a daughter is reading, it still works, and she can say in her introduction that Dad used to quote it.
Poems for a dad who loved the outdoors
For the dad who hunted, fished, hiked or drove the long way home to see the hills.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Robert Frost, 1923
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
Frost’s poem was first printed in his 1923 book New Hampshire, so it is in the public domain in the US. It is a quiet choice for a man who kept going for other people, and the last stanza fits on a prayer card by itself.
Joy, Shipmate, Joy!
Walt Whitman, 1871
Joy, shipmate, joy! (Pleas’d to my soul at death I cry,) Our life is closed, our life begins, The long, long anchorage we leave, The ship is clear at last, she leaps! She swiftly courses from the shore, Joy, shipmate, joy.
Seven lines from Whitman for a sailor, a fisherman or a Navy veteran. It reads as a send-off and has none of the sadness of most funeral poems.
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills
Psalm 121, King James Version, 1611
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the LORD, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep. The LORD is thy keeper: the LORD is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. The LORD shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul. The LORD shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.
Psalm 121 is sometimes called the traveler’s psalm. It suits a father who was always out on the road or up a mountain, and it is short enough to read without a rehearsal.
Religious readings for a father
Scripture is the most common reading at a church funeral for a dad. The King James Version is in the public domain. If the service is in a church, ask the pastor or priest which translation they read from.
I have fought a good fight
2 Timothy 4:6–8, King James Version, 1611
For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing.
Paul wrote these lines near the end of his life. Verse 7 on its own is a common choice for a veteran, a coach or a man who was ill for a long time and kept going.
Poems about strength and a hard road
Some dads had a rough start or a long illness, or they carried the family through years nobody else saw. These two poems are about holding on.
Invictus
William Ernest Henley, 1888
Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.
Henley wrote “Invictus” after losing a leg to tuberculosis. It is not a religious poem, and “whatever gods may be” may not sit well at a church service, so check with the officiant first.
O Captain! My Captain!
Walt Whitman, 1865
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult O shores, and ring O bells! But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.
Whitman wrote this after Lincoln was killed, and the text here is from the 1882 edition of Leaves of Grass. Its grief is raw and loud, so it works well early in the service with a calmer reading after it.
Newer poems about fathers
These poems are still under copyright, so they aren’t printed here. You can usually read one aloud at the service. Ask the publisher before you print the full text on a program.
Those Winter Sundays
Robert Hayden
Reflective
A grown son remembers his father getting up in the cold to light the fire and polish the family’s shoes, and how little anyone thanked him. Often read by sons and daughters who understood their dad late.
Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas
Reflective
Thomas wrote it for his dying father, urging him to fight. Better suited to a dad who fought a long illness than to one who died peacefully.
Read “Do not go gentle into that good night” (opens another site)
Walking Away
Cecil Day-Lewis
Reflective
A father remembers watching his young son walk off to a school football game, and what it taught him about letting go. Sometimes read the other way round, by a son for his father.
How to choose a poem for your dad and read it aloud
Choosing one
Think about what your dad would have read himself, if he read poetry at all. A man who never opened a poetry book may be better served by something plain, like Psalm 121 or one of the short verses at the top of this page. A long, ornate poem can feel like it belongs to someone else.
A few questions help narrow it down:
- What did his hands do? If he built or repaired things, “The Village Blacksmith” or “The bench” will mean something to the people in the room who saw him work.
- Where was he happiest? On the water, in the woods, in the garden or in church. Pick the section above that matches.
- What did he get through? For a dad who fought an illness or a hard life, “Invictus” or 2 Timothy 4:7 honors that without dwelling on it.
- Who is reading? “If—” sounds natural from a son. A daughter or grandchild may be more comfortable with Frost or a short verse.
Keep the poem to about two minutes if a eulogy follows it. For the back of the program, pick something under 16 lines, or one stanza from a longer poem, and check that it fits your funeral program template at a readable size.
Reading it aloud
Reading a poem at your father’s funeral is often harder than giving the eulogy, because there’s no room to improvise. A few things help:
- Print it in 16 to 18 point type on one sheet, with a line space between stanzas. Mark where you will breathe.
- Say who it’s for and why in one sentence. “Dad had this poem taped inside his toolbox lid” is enough. People listen harder when they know the reason.
- Go slower than feels right. Longfellow and Kipling both have strong rhythms that pull a nervous reader into a gallop. Pause at the end of each stanza.
- Plan for the line that will get you. Read it aloud at home until you know which line catches. On the day, slow down just before it and take a breath.
- Have a backup. Ask a brother, sister or friend to sit in the front row with a copy. If you need to stop, they can stand up and finish it.
If you are giving the eulogy as well, you can end it with a short poem from this page. See eulogy for dad for examples, and obituary examples for a father if you are also writing his obituary.
Short verses for memorial cards
For readings by tone, including comforting and non-religious poems, see the full list of funeral poems.
Questions people ask
What is a good poem to read at my dad's funeral?
Pick one that sounds like him. For a working man, Longfellow's The Village Blacksmith or Kipling's poem If are common choices. For a man of faith, Psalm 121 or 2 Timothy 4:7. For someone who loved the outdoors, Frost's Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.
Is Whitman's O Captain, My Captain about a father?
Whitman wrote it in 1865 about the death of Abraham Lincoln, and the speaker calls the captain dear father. Families often read it for a dad who led the family through hard years, or for a veteran or a man who loved boats.
Can I change he to Dad in a poem?
Yes, for an original verse like the ones on this page. For a published poem, read it as written and say in your introduction who it is for. Changing a well-known poem's words can distract people who know it.
Can a child read a poem at their father's funeral?
Yes. A short verse of four to eight lines is easier for a child, and it helps if an adult stands beside them. Give them a printed copy in large type and let them practice at home first.