Abigail Christiana is my youngest daughter (unless our unborn child usurps that role), and she is three years old today. God be praised for her: she is a joy to her family. As some of you know, I have been in the habit of writing poems or stories for the kids and my wife on their birthdays. In honor of Abigail, and in thanksgiving to God for my child, I thought I'd post the poem I wrote for Abigail today.
As background, you should know that Abigail, almost from the time she was born, has identified herself as a princess. I even recall one afternoon when she was...ah, when she was...well, receiving the due reward for her misdeeds, shall we say. As the moment of temporal justice neared, she filed various appeals with the Court, all to no avail. And just as she found herself bent over the parental knee, she made one last attempt to escape her fate by saying, "but I'm a princess!"
Needless to say, this last appeal was also denied by the Court, though the Court very much appreciated it on other terms. But it was with such memories as these that I wrote Abigail's birthday poem, which is as follows:
Princess Abigail
By Her Father, on Her Third Birthday
16 August 2011
I sometimes wonder why it is that little girls are all
United in desire to be a princess at a ball?
Why is it, though they disagree on fifty other things,
All see themselves as daughters born of Emperors or Kings?
Now Abigail, my youngest-born, is princess through and through;
And so upon her birthday I have authored this review
Of that which true nobility on noble lives lays claim,
That those who would be princesses may not be put to shame.
A princess, first, is under Law; for Law has given her
The name of "Princess" (which she could not on herself confer);
Thus princesses must early learn to honor and obey
Their Father-Kings and Mother-Queens; renewed in love each day.
A noble princess next must learn the art of sacrifice:
For Love and Truth and Honor all exact a royal price.
A princess endures hardship, loss, and danger valiantly,
And of the treasure of her heart, she gives abundantly.
Her merry heart is quick to laugh, no less in days of want,
When meals are thin, and treasure scarce, and faces pale and gaunt.
A princess scorns the company of fashion-monging boys
(Or girls), and is not much impressed with adolescent toys.
She seeks the friendship of the Wise, to learn their holy ways;
And loves her God above all else; her lips are quick to praise.
A noble daughter; someday, by God's grace, a noble wife;
For Goodness, Truth, and Beauty are the canon of her life.
So Abigail, my princess, learn to love all that is good,
And hate all that is evil, as a noble princess should.
Then, though your father may not be the image of a king,
The praises of his princess he will never cease to sing.
