To Fiona (Nineteen Months Old)

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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.

© William Stanley Braithwaite