6. ‘Castigate-a-dear’
The sixth, his crumpled face
Held up like an offering
Is told not to cry, for painIs as petty as anger or joy,
And he ought by now to have learned
More silent ways of handling his feelings.
In time his hush will sound above punitive outrage
A familiar note of sufferance.
He will never learn through weeping hours
That there was a cluster of grapes
Ready for picking and sharing, some good
He would instantly recognize that he had made
Precarious by his thoughtless deed - but recoverable;
But the one who treads the wine
Thinks so much of his moral anger
That he forces young shoulders to bear a burden
Of guilt greater than the child can understand
Or dissipate by making reparation.
In vain does he shift his heart to a new hold
On tenderness, conscience and reason
When adults take the very steps likely to
Harden him, morally stunt him
And make him neurotic. If hardness
Is stupidity, it is only the adult’s own folly
Staring back at him.
Setting against obduracy the possibility of growth,
The reprover summons to his court the voice of complaint -
Not drowning it with his own disgust
Bred of stark anxiety for his moral beliefs -