How it opens
You were born to an old name and a warm estate, and orphaned of both parents before you could spell either.
The house kept you the way a house keeps a portrait, dusted, insured, and rarely spoken to.
The GuardianThe boy grows. His accounts are in order. See that his Latin keeps pace with his appetite.
My Latin, sir, keeps pace with nothing. It is the tutors who limp.
Choose
Tell him what you have read, honestly, all of it.
Tell him you mean to be a poet, and let the word do its worst.
Tell him you want nothing but to be left alone with the west wall.