To My Godson

Now I am named a father to this child The stars are not so easy to accept: Each foot of night blue heaven is a wild Presentiment; the blazing moon, once kept Romantic by the sonneteer, is gray, Deep-pocked—an impotent, unlovely child Of Earth and Sun. This other child, my son, Has made me look too close: the natural way To look again with half-shut eyes. The one Course left for me is by the harsher say Of reason, so that I may see each thing For its sad worth, and those few lovely joys. And so that I may teach myself to sing Instructive songs, and give instructive toys.