R For Remembrance

I have no memory of his face,

A bearded man or smooth and bare;

I never heard my mother call

My father either dark or fair.

All I remember is a coat

Of velvet, buttoned on his breast;

Where  I, when tired of fingering it,

Would lay my childish head and rest.

His voice was low and seldom heard,

His body small-I've heard it said;

But his hoarse cough made children think

Of monsters growling to be fed.

If any children took that road,

And heard my father coughing near,

They whispered, 'Hist! Away, away-

There's some big giant lives in there!'