What do you think of this poem written for his deceased daughter?

[julie09]

She’d formed the sweet habit in her tender years To wander in my room each morning as dawn clears; I waited for her coming like a ray of light; She’d enter with a smile: “Good morning, father dear,” Take up my pen, open my books, sit softly near Upon my bed, mess up my papers, laugh out bright, Then vanish in a flash, a bird taking to flight.

And then I would resume, my spirit far less weary, My interrupted work; and writing as I went, Among my manuscripts, once solemn and so dreary, I’d often find some wild, playful doodle she’d traced, Or some crumpled blank page her little hands embraced, Where, I know not how, my sweetest lines were sent.

She loved God, flowers, stars, green meadows in the sun; A pure soul she was before womanhood begun. Her eyes reflected all the clarity of her heart. She’d consult me on everything, never apart. Oh! What radiant winter nights, charming and deep, Parsing history and language while the cold winds sweep, My four children gathered on my knees, their mother near, A few friends chatting by the fire in warm cheer! I called that simple life: content with little things!

And to think that she is dead! Alas, may God sustain me! I was never joyful when I felt her spirit low; I stood gloomy amidst the gayest ball in town If, leaving her, I’d seen her eyes cast with a frown.

[loveyouoak]

I didn't like this poem because I prefer rhyming poems.

[AI Opinion]

It’s devastating and beautiful 💔 The rhythm and imagery are very classical, almost like Victor Hugo mourning his daughter. The small details hit hardest: her doodles, the messed-up papers, the contrast between lively mornings and the silence after death. It captures how grief lives in everyday habits, not just big emotions. Very moving and sincere.

[Nikki1989]

It is very moving.

[Abbycado]

It’s beautiful.

[Anonymous]

I don’t like father and daughter poems