follow the generations, and that gentleness survives--from grandfathers and fathers to children, on and on. I often think of some lines from the poem "April Inventory" by W.D. Snodgrass, about the passing of seasons and lives. In the last marvelous stanza, he writes: "Though trees turn bare and girls turn wives,/We shall afford our costly season;/There is a gentleness survives/That will outspeak and has its reasons."
from Jay Parini: Vermont Public Radio: On Fathering