My little boys are growing up, Normal, healthy, not too bad— And confidentially I suspect, No worse than Grandpa was, or Dad.
Though true at times they irritate me, At times they make my heart feel glad, When friends so proudly they introduce— "I want you to meet and know my Dad."
No epitaph could grace my tomb, No greater homage could be had, Than for my sons to say to friends— "I wish that you had known my Dad."
A father looks at his young sons and admits, with a wry smile, that they're perfectly ordinary kids, probably no worse than he or his own father ever were. The tone is warm and a little self-mocking. He's not boasting about prodigies, just enjoying the everyday business of raising boys who sometimes drive him up the wall and sometimes make him proud.
The real feeling sits in the final stanza. Instead of wishing for a grand monument or a fancy epitaph, he says the best tribute he could ever receive would be hearing his sons tell friends, "I wish that you had known my Dad." The shift into the past tense is quietly moving, because it imagines a time after he's gone. What he wants most isn't fame or wealth, but to be remembered with love by his children. The mood is gentle, sincere, and tender, with a touch of humor along the way.