Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ODE TO A STRAW, by JOHN COWPER POWYS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ODE TO A STRAW, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Whence comest thou o wandering elf
Last Line: There's but a name.
Subject(s): Names; Storms; Straw; Wandering & Wanderers


Whence comest thou O wandering elf,
That dancest o'er my winter lawn,
Art thou come hither of thyself,
Or tempest torn?

From some well roof'd and ivied shed,
Where summer's harvest yet remains
Houseled secure from casual tread,
Or wanton rains?

Now would I build a song of thee,
Philosophise upon a straw,
Solve the mysterious vagrancy
Which is thy law.

Like thee, poor waif, we're whistled down
The weary road of chance and time,
Like thee, thro' country and thro' town,
The senseless mime

Of being dance, and wis not whence,
Whither nor why, but only know
The near-at-hand impediments,
The frost, the snow.

The heaps of mud beside the way,
The little sunbeam soon to pass,
The crawling things, ah, me! that stray
Amid the grass.

Nor in the end is difference seen --
We also, mixt with refuse, go
To make the next year's harvest green --
Its grass to grow.

The mill of fate grinds on, and then
What matters which? 'Tis all the same.
'Twixt wheaten straws and mortal men
There's but a name.





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