#330

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Through it all, the man loved his daughter. It’s all love and happiness for a little girl, until those inevitable final lines: “Universal clouds, an Irish sky, / said what would be her fate, tears & a child / and a father old & wild.” You hope for the best for them, don’t you? And you prepare them and give them all you can to help them get going. But in the end it’s her life to make of what she will, and the world can be a difficult place. She was born into a world where opportunity for women was beginning to open up. That’s good, though it hasn’t gone far enough even yet. But a treatise about women’s rights isn’t quite right in response to this poem. This is really about the effect that a little girl has on her surroundings right now. There’s nothing like it. Her sparkle naturally leads to a questioning ahead—What is in store for such a delightful young person?—but that only matters because her charm right now is so fresh and enchanting. “He’s supposed to fear, / since everyone else does, but actually he can’t make it.” He can’t fear for her because that natural concern of a worried, brooding parent is overwhelmed by delight—nothing can touch this moment. She’ll grow up soon enough, and the low clouds remind of a future life that will certainly be mottled with rain and sunshine. But not this second. Out of this second “Acres of joy / spring.” That is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.