Today is the seventh birthday of my oldest son, William Alfred Alexander Newsom. Some years back I began a tradition of writing either a poem, song, or story for my wife and children on their birthdays. Throughout this week, I’ll be posting such poems and stories written for William (and maybe for some of the others). We’ll begin with this one, written for William’s seventh birthday today. This one is also for Nathanael, my younger son, who turned four on May 3. We’re doing combined birthday parties: one each year for the girls, one for the boys. So this year I combined Nathanael’s and William’s poems into one for the brothers.
As a side note, I encourage parents (especially Dads) to do something like this. You don’t have to be a great poet (if you read any poetry, you will quickly see that I am not) or storyteller. But just do this: write a simple story, whether in verse or prose, with one or more of your children as the protagonist (hero). Put them in situations in which they must choose to be noble in the face of temptations to do otherwise. You would be surprised how even the simplest tales take on new meaning to your children when they begin to see themselves as characters in the story. This is an important way to build a storytelling culture in your home, and, by doing so, to build character in the lives of your children. In a story-shaped home, the virtues, the fruits of the Spirit that you wish to see them develop will begin to seep into their bones. They will know them: not just the rote knowledge of memorization (important though that is), but a knowledge that is woven into their very souls.
Anyway, happy birthday to my son, William, who is growing into the noble boy I have always dreamed about.
Band of Brothers
A Poem for Nathanael, on the Occasion of His Fourth Birthday (May 3, 2010); and William, on the Occasion of his Seventh Birthday (July 19, 2010)
Given With Love, By Your Father
Nathanael:
Well, here we are, just me and you,
There’s only two of us.
We boys, I mean: there’s only two;
Two brothers: we are small and few;
Whatever can we hope to do?
William:
Now, don’t despair, don’t fuss!
It’s true that we’re not army-size:
We can’t besiege a town.
But like the knight who charges, dies,
With noble luster in his eyes,
That gold and silver never buys;
And takes the foeman down.
So you and I are richly blessed
With courage from our Lord;
I’ve seen you, brother, sorely pressed,
Yet rise with valor, meet the test;
And you and I shall meet this Quest,
Come fire, death, or sword.
Nathanael:
Thanks, brother; now I’m set to try
To take the heights above;
For just two brothers—you and I—
By God’s dear grace may crack the sky;
We may not win but we can die,
To save that which we love.
As Jonathan and his servant went
Against a mighty crew;
So now two brothers have been sent,
To force the wicked to relent;
‘Til all heart-treasures have been spent;
And hearts are piercéd through.
William:
Well said, my brother! Now look to
The sword of steel you wear;
Whatever can we hope to do?
Nathanael:
Nay, here were are, we happy few:
A band of brothers, small, but true;
A noble cross to bear.
Narrator:
Then bursting through the door to Hell,
Where Sorcery held sway,
Two brothers with a mighty yell,
Sent serpents spinning, beasts pell-mell;
And drave the Devil, tales do tell,
And nobly won the day.
Thus set they free their sisters twain,
Who, captured in the wood,
Refused the wizard’s cup to drain;
To keep their hearts from every stain;
And were enchanted for their pain,
For clinging to the Good.
And now the four walked hand in hand,
Walked in the dying gloam;
And knew not all that yet was planned:
Of twinkling stars and grains of sand;
That more would join their little band,
To grace their little home.
