To Fiona (Nineteen Months Old) Poem by William Stanley Braithwaite

Now my songs shall grow
Sweeter, year by year,
Just because I know
You shall read them, dear,

When your little hands,
And your little eyes,
Babyhood expands
Into grown-up wise.

You will ask me then,
Reading what I write
Of my youth and then
Song of you took flight.

Darling, I shall say ---
Just because I knew
In some future day
You would hold them true:


'Father wrote these songs
When I was a child;
Now to me belongs
All his dreams exiled.

'Mine is all the joy,
Mine are all the tears
In the heart of boy
And the man of years?'


This, my little one,
Is what you will say,
When my songs are done,
And my hair is grey.

But my songs I know,
Sweeter, year by year,
From my heart will flow
For your soul to hear ---

When your little hands,
And your little eyes,
Babyhood expands
Into grown-up wise.