Robert Graves
The child alone a poet is:
Spring and Fairyland are his.
Truth and Reason show but dim,
And all’s poetry with him.
Rhyme and music flow in plenty
For the lad of one-and-twenty,
But Spring for him is no more now
Than daisies to a munching cow;
Just a cheery pleasant season,
Daisy buds to live at ease on.
He’s forgotten how he smiled
And shrieked at snowdrops when a child,
Or wept one evening secretly
For April’s glorious misery.
Wisdom made him old and wary
Banishing the Lords of Faery.
Wisdom made a breach and battered
Babylon to bits: she scattered
To the hedges and ditches
All our nursery gnomes and witches.
Lob and Puck, poor frantic elves,
Drag their treasures from the shelves.
Jack the Giant-killer’s gone,
Mother Goose and Oberon,
Bluebeard and King Solomon.
Robin, and Red Riding Hood
Take together to the wood,
And Sir Galahad lies hid
In a cave with Captain Kidd.
None of all the magic hosts,
None remain but a few ghosts
Of timorous heart, to linger on
Weeping for lost Babylon.
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem laments the inevitable loss of childhood imagination and wonder, charting the transition from a world filled with magic and poetry to one constrained by wisdom and practicality. It explores how growing older often involves abandoning the rich, vibrant world of fantasy for the dull certainties of adulthood.
The opening lines establish the child as the true poet, instinctively attuned to beauty and magic. For the child, “Spring and Fairyland are his,” reflecting a natural capacity to find poetry in the ordinary and see beyond the surface of things. The comparison between the child and the “lad of one-and-twenty” underscores the shift that occurs with maturity. For the young adult, Spring loses its enchanted quality and becomes a mere backdrop for everyday life, symbolized by the dismissive image of a cow munching daisies.
The poem poignantly recalls the intense emotions of childhood, such as “shriek[ing] at snowdrops” or “weep[ing]… for April’s glorious misery.” These lines capture the raw, unfiltered experiences of joy and sorrow that define early years, emotions that fade as “Wisdom” takes hold. The personification of Wisdom as a force that “banished the Lords of Faery” and “scattered… nursery gnomes and witches” illustrates the gradual erosion of the magical worldview.
The imagery of beloved childhood characters—Jack the Giant-killer, Mother Goose, Oberon, and others—being exiled to the hedges and ditches evokes a profound sense of loss. These figures represent not only the stories themselves but the creative freedom and emotional richness they once offered. The reference to “lost Babylon” gives the poem a mythic resonance, equating the disappearance of childhood magic with the fall of a grand and irreplaceable civilization.
The closing lines, with their “few ghosts of timorous heart,” suggest that while most adults abandon their connection to magic, some remnants of it linger in those who refuse to fully let go. Yet these remnants are fragile, reduced to mourners for what has been irretrievably lost.
Overall, the poem is a bittersweet meditation on the cost of growing up. It mourns the displacement of wonder and imagination by reason and practicality, leaving readers to reflect on their own connection to the “magic hosts” of childhood. In doing so, it raises a timeless question: Can we preserve some part of that enchanted world as we age, or must it always be left behind?