Felix Mittermeier / Pexels
- Not Waving but Drowning
- Nobody heard him, the dead man,
- But still he lay moaning:
- I was much further out than you thought
- And not waving but drowning.
- Poor chap, he always loved larking
- And now he’s dead
- It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
- They said.
- Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
- (Still the dead one lay moaning)
- I was much too far out all my life
- And not waving but drowning.
- Alone in the Woods
- Alone in the woods I felt
- The bitter hostility of the sky and the trees
- Nature has taught her creatures to hate
- Man that fusses and fumes
- Unquiet man
- As the sap rises in the trees
- As the sap paints the trees a violent green
- So rises the wrath of Nature’s creatures
- At man
- So paints the face of Nature a violent green.
- Nature is sick at man
- Sick at his fuss and fume
- Sick at his agonies
- Sick at his gaudy mind
- That drives his body
- Ever more quickly
- More and more
- In the wrong direction.
- Drugs Made Pauline Vague
- Drugs made Pauline vague.
- She sat one day at the breakfast table
- Fingering in a baffled way
- The fronds of the maidenhair plant.
- Was it the salt you were looking for dear?
- Said Dulcie, exchanging a glance with the Brigadier.
- Chuff chuff Pauline what’s the matter?
- Said the Brigadier to his wife
- Who did not even notice
- What a handsome couple they made.
- The Face
- There is a face I know too well,
- A face I dread to see,
- So vain it is, so eloquent
- Of all futility.
- It is a human face that hides
- A monkey soul within,
- That bangs about, that beats a gong,
- That makes a horrid din.
- Sometimes the monkey soul will sprawl
- Athwart the human eyes,
- And peering forth, will flesh its pads,
- And utter social lies.
- So wretched is this face, so vain,
- So empty and forlorn,
- You well may say that better far
- This face had not been born.
Stevie Smith (1902-1971) was an English poet and novelist who is perhaps best known in popular culture for coining the phrase “A good time was had by all,” which was also the title of her first book of poems, published in 1937. Like her fiction, Smith’s poetry is characterized by an unsentimental, dark (if not wholly black) humor, containing an unvarnished realism underscored by an often acerbic levity which placed her work beyond such modifiers as “light” or “whimsical” — as illustrated by her best-known poem, “Not Waving but Drowning.”