The Diary Of A Nobody
In the quiet corners of this Age, poetry still weaves its ancient magic. Here gather the whispered verses of time - some penned in distant yesterdays, others born in the dawn of our own days. Let their wisdom and wonder be a light for all who would listen.
- The Diary Of A Nobody
The Diary Of A Nobody
E26: A Winter Bluejay - Sara Teasdale
Sara Teasdale - A Winter Bluejay
Written/Published: 1915 in Rivers to the Sea
The poem begins by placing the couple in a snow-covered landscape, walking through the “whisper[ing]” snow, enjoying a quiet moment. Their shadows are “danc[ing]” behind them, creating a beautiful pattern of light. It is clear that this moment is not one that comes often.
They continue on their walk and come upon skaters on a frozen lake who gracefully, without fault, weave around one another. Their grace and effortless beauty mimic the day and improve upon it still. Finally, the speaker asks if they have reached the “highest point” of their happiness and she decides that they have not as her companion points out a bluejay. The jay is proud of it’s own form and fearless in its assertions of life. The bird is like their love is that day, without worry for the future and enjoying the perfect moment the day has brought.
The poem concludes with an optimistic statement about happiness. That when one believes they have reached the pinnacle of their life, in which nothing could increase their joy, there may be more around the corner waiting for them. Read more @ PoemAnalysis.com (PoemAnalysis.com, 2022)
Poem:
Crisply the bright snow whispered,Crunching beneath our feet;Behind us as we walked along the parkway,Our shadows danced,Fantastic shapes in vivid blue.Across the lake the skatersFlew to and fro,With sharp turns weavingA frail invisible net.In ecstasy the earthDrank the silver sunlight;In ecstasy the skatersDrank the wine of speed;In ecstasy we laughedDrinking the wine of love.Had not the music of our joySounded its highest note?But no,For suddenly, with lifted eyes you said,“Oh look!”There, on the black bough of a snow flecked maple,Fearless and gay as our love,A bluejay cocked his crest!Oh who can tell the range of joyOr set the bounds of beauty?
Credits: Sara Teasdale 1915 / PoemAnalysis.com 2022