Jeffery Day
At first, when unaccustomed to death’s sting,
I thought that, should you die, each sweetest thing,
each thing of any merit on this earth,
would perish also, beauty, love, and mirth:
and that the world, despoiled and God-forsaken,
its glories gone, its greater treasures taken,
would sink into a slough of apathy
and there remain into eternity,
a mournful-minded, soul-destroying place
wherein there would be seen no smiling face,
where all desire to love and live would cease,
and death would be the only way to peace.
And when one day the aching blow did fall
for many days I did not live at all,
but, dazed and halting, made my endless way
painfully though a tangled growth of grey
and clinging thorns, dismal, towards belief,
and uncontrollable, heart-racking grief.
It could not be! – that one so fair and strong,
so honest-minded, and so void of wrong,
that one who made such splendid use of life,
whose smile could soothe the bitterness of strife
and make a cold, hard nature warm and soft
(who used to smile so frankly and so oft)
should die, and leave our spirits numb and breaking,
grief-stifled, and yet empty, sick, and breaking.
I prayed that God might give me power to sever
your sad remembrance from my mind forever.
“Never again shall I have heart to do
the things in which we took delight, we two.
I cannot bear the cross. Oh, to forget
the haunting vision of the past!”: and yet
surely it were a far more noble thing
to keep your memories all fresh as spring,
to do again the things that we held dear
and thus to feel your spirit ever near.
This I will do when peace shall come again –
peace and return, to ease my heart of pain.
Crouched in the brittle reed-beds wrapped in grey
I’ll watch the dawning of the winter’s day,
the peaceful, clinging darkness of the night
that mingles with the mystic morning light,
and graceful rushes, melting in the haze,
while all around in winding water ways
the wild fowl gabble cheerfully and low
or wheel with pulsing whistle to and fro,
filling the silent dawn with sweetest song,
swelling and dying as they sweep along,
till shadows of vague trees deceive the eyes
and stealthily the sun begins to rise,
striving to smear with pink the frosted sky
and pierce the silver mist’s opacity;
until the hazy silhouettes grow clear
and faintest hints of colouring appear,
and the slow, throbbing, red, distorted sun
reaches the sky, and all the large mists run,
leaving the little ones to wreathe and shiver,
pathetic, clinging to the friendly river;
until the watchful heron, grim and gaunt,
shows, ghostlike, standing at its favourite haunt,
and jerkily the moorhens venture out,
spreading swift, circled ripples round about;
and softly to the ear, and leisurely
querulous, comes the plaintive lover’s cry.
And then, maybe, some whispering near by,
some still, small, sound as of a happy sigh
shall steal upon my senses, soft as air,
and, brother! I shall know that thou are there.
Then, with my gun forgotten in my hand,
I’ll wander through the snow-encrusted land,
following the tracks of hare and stoat, and traces
of bird and beast, as delicate as laces,
doing again the things that we held dear,
keeping thy gracious spirit ever near,
comforted by the blissful certainty
and sweetness of thy splendid company.
And in the lazy summer nights I’ll glide
silently down the sleepy river’s tide,
listening to the music of the stream,
the plop of ponderously playful bream,
the water whispering around the boat,
and from afar the white owl’s liquid note
that lingers through the stillness, soft and slow;
watching the little yacht’s red homely glow,
her vague reflection, and her clean cut spars
ink-black against the stillness of the stars,
stealthily slipping into nothingness,
while on the river’s moon-splashed surfaces
tall shadows sweep. Then, when I go to rest,
it may be that my slumbers will be blest
by the faint sound of thy untroubled breath,
proving thy presence near, in spite of death.
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem explores the painful journey through grief, loss, and the eventual acceptance of death. The speaker begins by expressing an almost naive belief that the death of a loved one would make the entire world seem meaningless, barren, and devoid of beauty. At first, the thought of death brings overwhelming despair, leading the speaker to question the value of life itself. However, as the poem unfolds, the speaker begins to reconcile with the loss, finding solace in memories, nature, and the presence of the departed in the smallest, most intimate moments.
The poem opens with a vivid expression of sorrow and disbelief: “I thought that, should you die, each sweetest thing, each thing of any merit on this earth, would perish also.” This belief in the world’s collapse under the weight of loss represents the speaker’s initial struggle with grief, the overwhelming sense that the beauty and joy in life are inherently tied to the person who is now gone. The image of a world that “would sink into a slough of apathy” creates a powerful visual of emotional numbness and despair, a place where life seems to have lost its meaning.
However, the speaker’s journey through this grief is not one of total stagnation. There is a recognition that the intense grief, while painful, is a necessary part of processing loss. The speaker acknowledges the depth of the emotional wreckage: “I did not live at all,” as they navigate “a tangled growth of grey.” This image of a grey, thorny path symbolizes the difficulty of moving through grief—disorienting and painful, yet ultimately a path that must be walked in order to heal.
The speaker then expresses a desire to forget, to sever the connection with the deceased in order to escape the agony of remembrance. However, the realization comes that true healing lies not in forgetting, but in cherishing and preserving the memories. “Surely it were a far more noble thing to keep your memories all fresh as spring,” the speaker concludes, recognizing that by keeping those memories alive, the spirit of the departed can continue to offer comfort and presence.
The second half of the poem shifts tone as the speaker begins to find solace in nature. This part of the poem is rich with sensory imagery and evokes the healing power of the natural world. The speaker imagines returning to places they once enjoyed with the departed, like the “reed-beds wrapped in grey” and the “winding water ways,” finding peace in the sounds and sights of nature. The description of the sunrise—”striving to smear with pink the frosted sky” and “the slow, throbbing, red, distorted sun”—is vivid, highlighting the gradual return of hope and the beauty of the world after mourning.
In nature, the speaker finds continuity and a sense of connection to the lost loved one. As the day unfolds, the sounds of the world—“the wild fowl gabble cheerfully and low,” “the plaintive lover’s cry”—become symbols of the departed’s presence. The speaker imagines hearing a “whispering near by” and sensing the spirit of the lost one, finding comfort in the belief that they are not truly gone, but remain in these small, comforting sounds and experiences.
The poem moves toward a peaceful resolution as the speaker imagines engaging in shared activities once enjoyed with the deceased: wandering through the snow-encrusted land, following tracks, and boating down the river. These activities, once sources of pain, are now transformed into ways to feel the departed’s spirit and to continue the relationship in a new form. The image of “the lazy summer nights” and “the plop of ponderously playful bream” evokes an atmosphere of calm and contentment, suggesting that, although death separates people physically, it does not sever the emotional and spiritual connection.
The final lines, where the speaker imagines being comforted by the sound of the deceased’s breath during sleep, reinforce this idea of continuity beyond death. There is a deep sense of reconciliation with the fact of death, as the speaker no longer sees it as an absolute end but as a transformation of the relationship. The poem closes with an image of peaceful slumber, implying that the speaker has found a way to live with the loss, not through forgetfulness, but through an enduring presence that transcends the boundaries of death.
One of the most striking aspects of this poem is its movement from despair to acceptance, from the overwhelming darkness of grief to a recognition of the comfort that can be found in nature, memory, and the spiritual presence of the departed. The speaker’s evolution mirrors the typical journey of grief, with moments of intense sorrow, desire to forget, and eventual peace found in honoring the memories of the lost one.
The poem is also remarkable for its richly descriptive imagery, particularly in its depictions of nature. The descriptions of the landscape—the misty mornings, the tranquil rivers, the quiet sounds of animals—serve not only as a backdrop to the speaker’s grief but also as metaphors for the healing process. Nature is presented as a source of solace and a way to transcend the pain of loss, offering comfort in its stead.
In summary, this poem delves deeply into the emotional experience of loss, grief, and eventual reconciliation. It highlights the painful but necessary process of accepting death while finding ways to keep the departed spirit alive through memory, nature, and spiritual connection. The speaker’s journey from despair to peace is a powerful meditation on the enduring power of love and the ways in which we continue to carry those we have lost with us, even as we navigate the world without them.