A Flower Given to My Daughter

Dear Daughter,

Papa is reminded of James Joyce this weekend because it was Bloomsday, something Papa will explain later when you are older.

James Joyce was an Irish writer who loved languages and inventing new words and puzzles with words. He lived in Belgium for a short while and called Antwerp "Gnatwerp" because of all the muggen, something you also don't like here because they bite you at night.

He also had a daughter, Lucia, whom he loved very much and wrote her this poem that I wanted to share with you.

It is called, "A Flower Given to My Daughter." I have tried to provide you with flowers of various kinds over the years, and you gave me the most beautiful one the other day from the vine outside.

Here is the poem.


Frail the white rose and frail are
Her hands that gave
Whose soul is sere and paler
Than time's wan wave.

Rosefrail and fair -- yet frailest
A wonder wild
In gentle eyes thou veilest,
My blueveined child. 


Always keep your wonder wild and eyes gentle to the Beauty of life.

I Love You,
Papa