TO MY DAUGHTER
WHO TELLS ME SHE CAN DRESS HERSELF

So, dear, have you and Nurse conspired In secret, and all eyes evaded, Till you can boast yourself attired Unwatched, uncounselled and unaided?
Perfect in button, tape and hook, You’ve learned the knack, you come to tell us, And while you turn that we may look I own I am a little jealous
That she has taught you with success How to assume your frock and shed it, That you have learnt the art to dress And Abigail’s is all the credit.
Yet my devotion has its will, Nor can I lightly yield to Nurse all The praise, for I have prompted still A spiritual dress rehearsal;
On your soft hair a helmet placed, Fastened your breastplate like a bib on, And tied the Truth about your waist Where she is proud to tie your ribbon.
Each has her task, decorous, sweet, Fair, to surpass your friends, she made you, While for your hidden foes’ defeat I in your Pauline arms arrayed you.
For, though you tire of sash and gown And fold them up for good, there’s no day When these, that I have made your own, Shall be a burden or démodés.
Yet, though the clasps endure, I know I’ll wish our handiwork were neater When at celestial gates you show The well-worn harness to St. Peter.