Hopkins grabs a famous line from Wordsworth—“The child is father to the man”—and shakes it until it sounds utterly unthinkable. He repeats it, calls it “wild,” and dares you to wring any logic from it. Then he pretends to correct himself: surely the poet meant the opposite, “The man is father to the child.” But this doesn’t settle anything; he simply circles back to the first puzzling statement with the same amazed question. The whole poem becomes a kind of verbal spin. The speaker isn’t sincerely confused. He’s playing, toying with the impossible notion that a child could somehow generate the adult it will become. His tone is light, mischievous, and the mood is one of delighted dizziness. Beneath the teasing, though, lies a genuine curiosity: how much does the grown self actually owe to the child it once was? The poem refuses a straight answer, leaving the reader caught in that same loop of wonder.
The Child Is Father To The Man — Summary
'The child is father to the man.' How can he be? The words are wild. Suck any sense from that who can: 'The child is father to the man.' No; what the poet did write ran, 'The man is father to the child.' 'The child is father to the man!' How can he be? The words are wild.