What hund'red times I must have heard
Her look to me and say the word
That erstwhile I would daily count,
And boast to all the day's amount.
Ah, myriad a day I hear
That word that still provokes a tear-
Amazed how what my daughter voic'd
Could easy many burdens hoist.
But lo, the word is just a sound
That moves like wind above the ground,
That tinkers with my inner ear
So ‘daddy' is that thing I hear.
Yet when I hear it I rejoice,
Because it's this: my daughter's voice.
This sound, this wind that in me whirl
Reminds me she's my little girl …
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