A speaker watches a child dancing on the shore and asks why she should worry about the wind or water. Her youth keeps her from knowing the fool’s triumph, love lost as soon as it is won, and the strain of binding sheaves after the best labourer has died. The speaker feels tender but separate: he could have warned her about how despairing moths are when they are burned, but youth and age speak different tongues. His warning turns darker as he predicts she will accept whatever life offers, trust the world as a friend, suffer as her mother did, and be broken in the end. The closing lines repeat that he is old and calls his own speech “barbarous.” The mood is wistful and protective, but also quietly sorrowful, as if adult knowledge can only stand apart and watch youth dance.
To a Child Dancing in the Wind — Summary
Dance there upon the shore; What need have you to care For wind or water's roar? And tumble out your hair That the salt drops have wet; Being young you have not known The fool's triumph, nor yet Love lost as soon as won, Nor the best labourer dead And all the sheaves to bind. What need have you to dread The monstrous crying of wind?
Has no one said those daring Kind eyes should be more learn'd? Or warned you how despairing The moths are when they are burned, I could have warned you, but you are young, So we speak a different tongue.
O you will take whatever's offered And dream that all the world's a friend, Suffer as your mother suffered, Be as broken in the end. But I am old and you are young, And I speak a barbarous tongue.