Edward Thomas
Mother, the root of this little yellow flower
Among the stones has the taste of quinine.
Things are strange today on the cliff. The sun shines so bright,
And the grasshopper works at his sewing-machine
So hard. Here’s one on my hand, mother, look;
I lie so still. There’s one on your book.
But I have something to tell more strange. So leave
Your book to the grasshopper, mother dear,—
Like a green knight in a dazzling market-place,—
And listen now. Can you hear what I hear
Far out? Now and then the foam there curls
And stretches a white arm out like a girl’s.
Fishes and gulls ring no bells. There cannot be
A chapel or church between here and Devon,
With fishes or gulls ringing its bell,—hark.—
Somewhere under the sea or up in heaven.
‘It’s the bell, my son, out in the bay
On the buoy. It does sound sweet today.’
Sweeter I never heard, mother, no, not in all Wales.
I should like to be lying under that foam,
Dead, but able to hear the sound of the bell,
And certain that you would often come
And rest, listening happily.
I should be happy if that could be.
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem is a delicate blend of innocence, mystery, and a poignant longing for connection. The speaker, a child, shares their observations and reflections with their mother, moving from the tactile and immediate—like the taste of a root or the sight of a grasshopper—to the ethereal and otherworldly, such as the sound of a bell across the bay. The poem flows like a conversation, but beneath its simplicity lies a deep emotional undercurrent.
The imagery is vivid and sensory, especially in the opening lines. The “taste of quinine” in the root and the grasshopper “working at his sewing-machine” anchor the reader in a world of tactile and visual details. These details reflect a child’s keen sense of wonder, where even the smallest things feel significant. The juxtaposition of these tangible observations with the mysterious sound of the bell gives the poem a sense of duality—earthly and spiritual, mundane and profound.
The bell becomes the focal point of the poem, symbolizing something beyond the child’s immediate grasp. It’s not just a sound but a connection to something larger, perhaps the infinite or the divine. The child’s interpretation of the bell as being either “under the sea or up in heaven” suggests an innocence unbound by the constraints of logic. The mother grounds the child’s wonder by explaining it’s the buoy’s bell, but the child’s response transforms the ordinary into something extraordinary.
The child’s musings on death are both tender and unsettling. Their wish to lie “under that foam, / Dead, but able to hear the sound of the bell” carries a paradoxical comfort. Death, in the child’s view, is not an end but a state where connection and sensory experiences continue. The mention of the mother’s presence—”certain that you would often come / And rest, listening happily”—underscores the deep bond between them. It’s a desire for permanence in the face of transience, an assurance that love and presence persist even beyond life.
What’s striking is the balance of innocence and maturity in the child’s voice. The thoughts are those of someone grappling with big ideas—life, death, and eternity—but filtered through a lens of childlike simplicity. This tension gives the poem its emotional weight, making the child’s reflections both heartwarming and heartrending.
The poem’s quiet beauty lies in its ability to convey profound themes through the intimate lens of a conversation between mother and child. It doesn’t try to resolve the mysteries it presents; instead, it lingers in the space between wonder and understanding, leaving the reader with a bittersweet sense of the fleeting yet enduring nature of life, love, and memory.