John F. McCullagh
The Declaration Of Inspiration - Poem by John F. McCullagh
The day was dry and hot,
with not a breath of air.
His uniform was loosely fit,
The pinstripes, number 4.
Lou Gehrig was the 'Iron Horse'
but an iron horse no more.
ALS had robbed him of his strength,
and now moved in for the kill.
Most thought, at first, he would not speak.
That he didn't have the skill.
But all there remembered what he said
And I think I always will.
He considered himself 'the Luckiest man'
Despite the' bad break' he got.
An immigrant's son who hit it big
and shined in the spotlight.
Lou passed away within two years.
The Stadium, too, is gone.
We're not the Country we were then
America has moved on.
But on this Independence Day
I'll stand where Gehrig stood.
There used to be a ballpark here
and a hero kind and good.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about The Declaration Of Inspiration by John F. McCullagh
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
William Ernest Henley
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night