A parent hears their nine-year-old proclaim, with a mix of sternness and gentleness, that he is a boy now — definitely not a child. The speaker is caught off guard, aware that reason has somehow lost its footing. Watching the boy’s serious face bent over a book or toy, they call him a child and smile, but he smiles back with an unworried dignity that genuinely doesn’t belong to a child. The second stanza turns inward: the adult, burdened with years and memories, envies that desire to grow up. Why, the speaker wonders, would anyone with an innocent heart rush to leave it behind when grown-ups ache to shed their own heaviness and be children again? The final section is a gentle surrender. Whatever label the child chooses, he is loved exactly as he is — wild or quiet, loud or still — and that love fills the speaker’s heart completely. The poem feels tender and slightly wistful, accepting the small, proud step away from infancy as something to cherish, not fight.
Not A Child — Summary
'Not a child: I call myself a boy,' Says my king, with accent stern yet mild, Now nine years have brought him change of joy; 'Not a child.'
How could reason be so far beguiled, Err so far from sense's safe employ, Stray so wide of truth, or run so wild?
Seeing his face bent over book or toy, Child I called him, smiling: but he smiled Back, as one too high for vain annoy - Not a child.
II.
Not a child? alack the year! What should ail an undefiled Heart, that he would fain appear Not a child?
Men, with years and memories piled Each on other, far and near, Fain again would so be styled:
Fain would cast off hope and fear, Rest, forget, be reconciled: Why would you so fain be, dear, Not a child?
III.
Child or boy, my darling, which you will, Still your praise finds heart and song employ, Heart and song both yearning toward you still, Child or boy.
All joys else might sooner pall or cloy Love than this which inly takes its fill, Dear, of sight of your more perfect joy.
Nay, be aught you please, let all fulfil All your pleasure; be your world your toy: Mild or wild we love you, loud or still, Child or boy.