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The birds are pirates of her notes,
The blossoms steal her face's light;
The stars in ambush lie all day,
To take her glances for the night.
Her voice can shame rain-pelted leaves;
Young robin has no notes as sweet
In autumn, when the air is still,
And all the other birds are mute.
When I set eyes on ripe, red plums
That seem a sin and shame to bite,
Such are her lips, which I would kiss,
And still would keep before my sight.
When I behold proud gossamer
Make silent billows in the air,
Then think I of her head's fine stuff,
Finer than gossamer's, I swear.
The miser has his joy, with gold
Beneath his pillow in the night;
My head shall lie on soft warm hair,
And miser's know not that delight.
Captains that own their ships can boast
Their joy to feel the rolling brine—
But I shall lie near her, and feel
Her soft warm bosom swell on mine.
W. H. Davies’ "Joy Supreme" is a rapturous celebration of love, nature, and sensuality, weaving together vivid imagery and emotional intensity. Though Davies is often overshadowed by his more famous contemporaries, his work possesses a lyrical purity and an unpretentious yet profound engagement with beauty. This poem, in particular, exemplifies his ability to merge the natural world with human emotion, creating a tapestry of desire, admiration, and transcendent joy.
This essay will explore the poem’s historical and cultural context, its rich literary devices, its central themes, and its emotional resonance. Additionally, we will consider Davies’ biographical influences, philosophical undercurrents, and possible comparative analyses with other poets of his era.
William Henry Davies (1871–1940) was a Welsh poet whose life was marked by hardship, adventure, and an unyielding appreciation for beauty. A tramp and wanderer for much of his early years, Davies’ poetry often reflects his deep connection to nature and his keen observational skills. Unlike the more urban and modernist inclinations of his contemporaries (such as T. S. Eliot or Ezra Pound), Davies’ work is rooted in Romantic traditions, echoing the simplicity and sincerity of Wordsworth and John Clare.
"Joy Supreme" was published in the early 20th century, a period of rapid industrialization and social upheaval. In contrast to the mechanized, alienated world emerging around him, Davies’ poetry often retreats into an idyllic, almost pastoral vision of love and nature. This poem, in particular, rejects material wealth and worldly power in favor of intimate, sensory pleasures—a stance that may reflect Davies’ own transient lifestyle and his rejection of conventional success.
Davies employs a wealth of literary devices to convey his ecstatic vision of love. Chief among these is personification, which animates nature in service of the beloved’s beauty. The opening lines—
"The birds are pirates of her notes,
The blossoms steal her face's light;"
—suggest that the natural world is not merely inspired by the beloved but actively thieves her qualities. The birds "pirate" her voice, the blossoms "steal" her radiance, and the stars lie in "ambush" to capture her glances. This imagery transforms nature into a rival, a thief, and an admirer all at once, reinforcing the beloved’s supremacy over the natural order.
Another striking device is synesthesia, the blending of sensory experiences. The beloved’s voice is compared to "rain-pelted leaves," merging sound and touch, while her lips are likened to "ripe, red plums," evoking taste, sight, and even moral tension ("a sin and shame to bite"). This layering of senses creates a lush, almost overwhelming portrait of desire.
Metaphor and simile abound, with Davies drawing constant parallels between the beloved and elements of nature. Her hair is "finer than gossamer," her presence rivals the "rolling brine" of the sea, and her bosom’s swell is more intoxicating than a ship captain’s dominion over the waves. These comparisons elevate her beyond mortal beauty, positioning her as a force of nature itself.
The poem’s title, "Joy Supreme," suggests an almost religious exaltation of love. Davies does not merely describe affection but elevates it to a state of bliss that surpasses all worldly pleasures. The final stanza contrasts the "miser’s joy" of gold and the captain’s pride in his ship with the speaker’s deeper fulfillment in physical and emotional closeness. Love, here, is not just an emotion but a sacred experience, more valuable than material wealth or power.
Davies frequently uses nature to reflect human feeling, a technique reminiscent of Romantic poets like Keats and Shelley. However, unlike the Romantics, who often saw nature as a sublime and sometimes terrifying force, Davies treats it as an intimate accomplice to human joy. The beloved does not compete with nature; rather, nature aspires to her beauty. This inversion—where humans are the ideal, and nature the imitator—subverts traditional pastoral tropes.
The poem’s sensuality is palpable, yet it avoids vulgarity. Instead, desire is rendered in almost reverent terms. The plums that seem "a sin and shame to bite" evoke the forbidden fruit of Eden, suggesting that the beloved is both temptation and transcendence. Similarly, the "soft warm bosom" in the final lines is not merely erotic but a source of profound comfort and fulfillment. Davies merges the physical and the spiritual, presenting love as both bodily and divine.
The poem’s emotional power lies in its unrestrained enthusiasm. Unlike the restrained melancholy of many early 20th-century poems, "Joy Supreme" is exuberant, almost giddy in its celebration. The speaker’s comparisons are hyperbolic—birds pirate her voice, stars ambush her glances—yet this exaggeration feels genuine, a testament to the overwhelming nature of love.
There is also a quiet intimacy in the final stanza, where the speaker contrasts his joy with that of a miser or a ship captain. The tactile imagery—"soft warm hair," "soft warm bosom"—creates a sense of closeness that is both tender and triumphant. The poem does not merely describe love; it enacts it, inviting the reader into the speaker’s rapture.
Davies’ work can be usefully compared to that of John Clare, another poet of natural observation and emotional sincerity. Clare’s "She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways" similarly elevates a beloved figure above nature, though with a more elegiac tone. Where Clare mourns, Davies exults.
Another apt comparison is D. H. Lawrence, whose poems often celebrate physical love with a raw, unfiltered intensity. However, Lawrence’s sensuality is more overtly primal, while Davies retains a playful, almost chivalric reverence.
Davies’ own life—marked by poverty, travel, and a rejection of conventional success—infuses the poem with its anti-materialist ethos. The dismissal of the miser’s gold and the captain’s pride suggests that Davies values immediate, sensory experience over wealth or power. This aligns with his tramp-poet persona, a man who found richness in observation and emotion rather than possessions.
Philosophically, the poem echoes Epicurean ideals—the belief that pleasure (particularly simple, natural pleasures) is the highest good. Yet it also carries a Platonic undercurrent, treating the beloved as an ideal form that nature can only imperfectly mimic.
"Joy Supreme" is a masterful fusion of natural imagery, sensual delight, and emotional exaltation. Davies’ language is both lush and precise, his metaphors inventive yet deeply felt. The poem rejects the material and the grandiose in favor of intimate, embodied joy—a radical stance in an age of increasing industrialization.
Ultimately, the poem’s greatness lies in its ability to make the reader feel its joy. It is not a detached meditation on love but a celebration, an incantation of bliss that lingers long after the final line. In a literary landscape often dominated by irony and disillusionment, Davies’ sincerity is both refreshing and profoundly moving. His "Joy Supreme" is exactly that—a pinnacle of delight, captured in verse.
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