Midweek Poem

Have you ever woken up one morning, with the sun shining, the birds singing, and your spouse nuzzled up next to you in a warm bed, and thought how delicious it would be to play hooky from the office or household chores and just enjoy the day together outdoors? And then, after you wake up a bit and the "dutiful mills of the brain" start alerting you to all the important responsibilities you have yet to attend to, you sadly put away that wild idea and start getting dressed for work? That's the instance this poem captures perfectly.

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Morning
by John Crowe Ransom

Jane awoke Ralph so gently on one morning
That first, before the true householder Learning
Came back to tenant in the haunted head,
He lay upon his back and let his stare
Penetrate dazedly into the blue air
That swam all round his bed,
And in the blessed silence nothing was said.

Then his eyes travelled through the window
And lit, enchantedly, on such a meadow
Of wings and light and clover,
He would propose to Jane then to go walking
Through the green waves, and to be singing not talking;
Such imps were pranking over
Him helpless lying in bed beneath a cover.

Suddenly he remembered about himself,
His manliness returned entirely to Ralph;
The dutiful mills of the brain
Began to whir with their smooth-grinding wheels
And the sly visitors wriggled off like eels;
He rose and was himself again.
Simply another morning, and simply Jane.