On today's show, Tom Hall takes a moment to pay tribute to his daughter, on a special occasion:----And now, I have a favor to ask: I beg your indulgence to read a poem for my daughter, whose 30th birthday is today. Her name is Miranda Rose Hall. She’s a playwright. She is named after her maternal and paternal great-grandmothers. Miranda’s great grandfather was the poet, Ogden Nash. Every year on his wife’s birthday, Mr. Nash wrote a poem to celebrate that occasion. Mrs. Nash’s name was Frances, but on her 30th birthday, Mr. Nash called her “Miranda,” and that’s the name my wife and I chose for our daughter, thirty years ago today. The poem is called 'A Lady Who Thinks She is Thirty.'Unwillingly Miranda wakes, Feels the sun with terror, One unwilling step she takes, Shuddering to the mirror. Miranda in Miranda's sight Is old and gray and dirty; Twenty-nine she was last night; This morning she is thirty. Shining like the morning star, Like the twilight shining, Haunted by a calendar, Miranda is a-pining. Silly girl, silver girl, Draw the mirror toward you; Time who makes the years to whirl Adorned as he adored you. Time is timelessness for you; Calendars for the human; What's a year, or thirty, to Loveliness made woman? Oh, Night will not see thirty again, Yet soft her wing, Miranda; Pick up your glass and tell me, then-- How old is Spring, Miranda? Happy Birthday, Miranda Rose. It's Midday. I'm Tom Hall...----(The Ogden Nash poem is used with permission.)
A Birthday Poem
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