Well, then the child grows up. But as a child She dances, laughs and sings. At three years springs For minutes and for minutes on her toes, Like skipping rope, clapping her hands the while, Her blue eyes twinkling, and her milk-white teeth Glistening as she gurgled, shouted, laughed-- There never was such vital strength. I give The pictures as my memory took them. Next I see her looking side-ways at me, as if She studied me, avoided me. The child Is now ten years of age; and now I know She smelled the rats that made the family hearth A place for scampering; the horrors of our home. She thought I brought the rats and kept them there, These rats of bickering, anger, strife at home. I knew she blamed me for her mother's moods Who dragged about the kitchen day by day, Sad faced and silent. So the upshot was I had two enemies in the house, where once I had but one, her mother. This made worse The state for both, and worse the state for me. And so it goes. Then next there's Alma Bell. The following year my daughter finished up The High School--and we sit--my wife and I To see the exercises. And that summer Elenor, Now eighteen and a woman, goes about-- I don't know what she does, sometimes I see Some young man with her walking. But at home, When I come in, the mother and the daughter Put pedals on their talk, or change the theme-- I am shut out. And in the fall I learn From some outsider that she's teaching school, And later people laugh and talk to me About her feat of cowing certain Czechs, Who broke her discipline in school. Well, then Two years go on that have no memory, Just like sick days in bed when you lie there And wake and sleep and wait. But finally Her mother says: "To-night our Elenor Leaves for Los Angeles." And then the mother, To hide a sob, coughs nervously and leaves The room where I am, for the kitchen--I Sit with the evening paper, let it fall, Then hold it up to read again and try To say to self, "All right, what if she goes?" The evening meal goes hard, for Elenor Shines forth in kindness for me, talks and laughs-- I choke again.... She says to me if God Had meant her for a better youth, then God Had given her a better youth; she thanks me For making High School possible to her, And says all will be well--she will earn money To go to college, that she will gain strength By helping self--Just think, my friend, to hear Such words, which in their kindness proved my failure, When I had hoped, aspired, when I had given My very soul, whether I liked this daughter, Or liked her not, out of a generous hand, Large hearted in its carelessness to give A daughter of such mind a place in life, And schooling for the place.