Learn More

Stevie Smith

(20 September 1902 – 7 March 1971 / Kingston upon Hull)

Nor We of Her to Him


He said no word of her to us
Nor we of her to him,
But oh it saddened us to see
How wan he grew and thin.
We said: she eats him day and night
And draws the blood from him,
We did not know but said we thought
This was why he grew thin.

One day we called and rang the bell,
No answer came within,
We said: She must have took him off
To the forest old and grim,
It has fell out, we said, that she
Eats him in forest grim,
And how can we help him being eaten
Up in forests grim?

It is a restless time we spend,
We have no help from him,
We walk about and go to bed,
It is no help to him.
Sometimes we shake our heads and say
It might have better been
If he had spoke of us to her
Or we of her to him.
Which makes us feel helpful, until
The silence comes again.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read poems about / on: sometimes, silence, night, time

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Nor We of Her to Him by Stevie Smith )

Enter the verification code :

  • Rookie - 0 Points Colleen Courtney (5/18/2014 12:33:00 PM)

    Interesting. I take this as parents who have lost their child to their significant other and for whatever reason is being kept apart from the family. Usually this happens in the case of one who is being abused. (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

Trending Poets

Trending Poems

  1. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  2. Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
  3. Death is Nothing at All, Henry Scott Holland
  4. Christmas Trees, Robert Frost
  5. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  6. Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep, Mary Elizabeth Frye
  7. Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
  8. The Three Kings, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
  9. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  10. A Visit from St. Nicholas, Clement Clarke Moore

Poem of the Day

poet James Whitcomb Riley

There! little girl; don't cry!
They have broken your doll, I know;
And your tea-set blue,
And your play-house, too,
Are things of the long ago;
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]