Classic Poem

Barbara, though you aren't a boy,
As you'd have liked, I wish you joy,
And all the things that I think best—
Laughter, a Home, a Heart at rest,
Old books and Love, to make you wise,
A man, like you, with steady eyes:
Children, tribes of them (and they'll fight,
And ask you questions day and night);
And, Barbara, when you've got to die,
A grand-daughter to say good-bye.