Poems
Half-waking
I thought it was the little bed
I slept in long ago;
A straight white curtain at the head,
And two smooth knobs below.
I thought I saw the nursery fire,
And in a chair well-known
My mother sat, and did not tire
With reading all alone.
If I should make the slightest sound
To show that I’m awake,
She’d rise, and lap the blankets round,
My pillow softly shake;
Kiss me, and turn my face to see
The shadows on the wall,
And then sing Rousseau’s Dream to me,
Till fast asleep I fall.
But this is not my little bed;
That time is far away;
With strangers now I live instead,
From dreary day to day.
I slept in long ago;
A straight white curtain at the head,
And two smooth knobs below.
I thought I saw the nursery fire,
And in a chair well-known
My mother sat, and did not tire
With reading all alone.
If I should make the slightest sound
To show that I’m awake,
She’d rise, and lap the blankets round,
My pillow softly shake;
Kiss me, and turn my face to see
The shadows on the wall,
And then sing Rousseau’s Dream to me,
Till fast asleep I fall.
But this is not my little bed;
That time is far away;
With strangers now I live instead,
From dreary day to day.
Analysis (ai): The poem uses a simple ABAB rhyme scheme and iambic meter, consistent with mid-Victorian lyrical conventions, aligning with the restrained emotional tone typical of the period; its brevity and regular stanzas contrast with the author’s longer narrative works.
- Memory and Illusion: The speaker momentarily believes he is a child again, experiencing sensory details—curtains, fire, mother’s presence—as if time had not passed; this blurring of memory and present reality creates a momentary dream state.
- Disillusionment: The final stanza abruptly dismantles the fantasy, replacing domestic warmth with current alienation, revealing an emotional gap between past comfort and present solitude.
- Maternal Presence: The mother is shown not as an idealized figure but as quietly enduring, reading alone, highlighting mundane yet deeply felt care, a detail often overlooked in readings focused on nostalgia.
- Contrast of Spaces: The child’s bed signifies safety and intimacy, whereas the present dwelling with “strangers” suggests emotional detachment, underscoring a shift from belonging to estrangement.
- Historical Context: Unlike contemporaries who explored industrialization or faith crises, the poem focuses inward, aligning with Victorian domestic lyricism but diverging from the author’s usual folklore-inspired themes.
- Modern Resonance: Though pre-20th century, the poem prefigures modern concerns with dislocation and psychological interiority, particularly the fragmentary nature of memory and identity.
- Author’s Oeuvre: Less known for personal lyricism than ballads and Celtic revival themes, this poem stands out in his work for its psychological honesty and lack of mythological embellishment.
- Unspoken Loneliness: The final line’s emphasis on repetition—“dreary day to day”—conveys emotional stagnation, a subtle critique of adult life absent in more romanticized depictions of childhood recollection.
- Cultural Reference: “Rousseau’s Dream” likely alludes to the painting or its themes of idealized return, embedding art within familial ritual and adding another layer to the illusion of return.
William Allingham (19 March 1824 – 18 November 1889) was an Irish poet, diarist and editor. He wrote several volumes of lyric verse, and his poem “The Faeries” was much anthologised. But he is better known for his posthumously published Diary, in which he records his lively encounters with Tennyson, Carlyle and other writers and artists. His wife, Helen Allingham, was a well-known artist, watercolourist and illustrator.
