A Prayer For My Daughter

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    <strong>A Prayer For My Daughter</strong>

    Once more the storm is howling, and half hid

    Uhis cradle-hood and coverlid

    My child sleeps on. There is no obstacle

    But Gregorys wood and one bare hill

    Whereby the haystack- and roof-levelling wind９9ｌiｂ?,

    Bred olantic,  be stayed;

    And for<bdo>?</bdo> an hour I have walked and prayed

    Because of the great gloom that is in my mind.

    I have walked and prayed for this young child an hour

    And heard the sea-wind scream upoower,

    And uhe arches of the bridge, and scream

    In the elms above the flooded stream;

    Imagining ied reverie

    That the future years had e,

    Dang to a frenzied drum,

    Out of the murderous innoce of the sea.

    May she be granted beauty a not

    Beauty to make a strangers eye distraught,

    Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,

    Being made beautiful overmuch,

    sider beauty a suffit end,

    Lose natural kindness and maybe

    The heart-revealing intimacy

    That chooses right, and never find a friend.

    Helen being chosen found<bdi>藏书网</bdi> life flat and dull

    And later had much trouble from a fool,

    While that great Queen, that rose out of the spray,

    Being fatherless could have her way

    Yet chose a bandy-leggèd smith for man.

    Its cer?９9lib?ain that fine wome

    A crazy salad with their meat

    Whereby the Horn of Plenty is undone.

    In courtesy Id have her chiefly learned;

    Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned

    By those that are irely beautiful;

    Yet many, that have played the fool

    For beautys very self, has charm made wise,

    And many a poor man that has roved,

    Loved and thought himself beloved,

    From a glad kindness ot take his eyes.

    May she bee a flourishing hidden tree

    That all her thoughts may like the li be,

    And have no business but dispensing round

    Their magnanimities of sound,

    Nor but in merriment begin a chase,

    Nor but in merriment a quarrel.

    O may she live like some green laurel

    Rooted in one dear perpetual place.

    My mind, because the minds that I have loved,

    The sort of beauty that I have approved,

    Prosper but little, has dried up of late,

    Yet knows that to be choked with hate

    May we<cite>９9liｂ.</cite>ll be of all evil ces chief.

    If theres no hatred in a mind

    Assault and battery of the wind

    ever tear the li from the leaf.

    An intellectual hatred is the worst,

    So let her think opinions are accursed.

    Have I not seen the loveliest woman born

    Out of the mouth of Plentys horn,

    Because of her opinionated mind

    Barter that horn and every good

    By quiet natures uood

    For an old bellows full of angry wind?

    sidering that, all hatred driven hence,

    The soul recovers radical innoce

    And learns at last that it is self-delighting,

    Self-appeasing, self-affrighting,

    And that its ow will is Heavens will;

    She , though every face should scowl

    And every windy quarter howl

    Or every bellows burst, be happy still.

    And may her bridegro her to a house

    Where alls aced, ceremonious;

    Fand hatred are the wares

    Peddled ihhfares.

    How but in  and in ceremony

    Are innod beauty born?

    Ceremonys a name for the rich horn,

    And  for the spreading laurel tree.

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