Poem of the week: Wynken, Blynken, and Nod by Eugene Field

This week I've chosen a famous children's poem, Wynken, Blynken, and Nod, by the American poet and journalist Eugene Field (1850-1895). It was probably the first poem I read for myself, tempted by some bold, cartoony illustrations. I don't remember much about them, except for a giant clog which served as the fishing-boat. But no one who ever read the poem could fail to recall the names of those "fishermen three".

Wynken, Blynken and Nod are slightly foreign, yet familiar, and immensely satisfying sounds. They are almost mini-characterisations in themselves. The poem is a virtuoso piece of rhythmic structuring, with its tripping four-beat/three-beat lines, and the master strokes of variation which extend the second quatrain of each stanza, adding a fifth rhymed line, and dividing the last into monometers. This separation insists that each name is fully relished. It turns the print on the page into a voice. That "Nod" is left unrhymed reveals perfect pitch.

Field was born in St Louis, but the poem has an old-country feel. The subtitle, Dutch Lullaby, the spelling of the names, the homely details of the old shoe and the trundle bed, and the occupation of herring fishing all suggest a remembered place in an immigrant's dream. They also save the poem from dissolving into sweetness, the "wonderful sights" and "beautiful things" which might grate on the modern reader. Field is not wildly imaginative, of course: he doesn't compare with Edward Lear. But he is imaginative enough: the sailing boat is a shoe, the sea a sea of dew, the stars are herring, the moon speaks to the fishermen. There is ample fuel for a small child's imagination – and for the illustrator's pen.

The last stanza, of course, is the one that might cause a squirm. It spells out the metaphor, perhaps needlessly. Is it a little too tender? I rather like that "wee one's trundle bed," but some might feel the word is "soppy." However, apart from this parent-pleasing line, the speaker continues to address the child. The explanation about eyes and head might suggest an accompanying touching-game (though that would surely be risky if you wanted the child to settle down). Because it reverts to the adventure, and the names of the "fishermen three" at the end, this stanza somehow restores the magic, and sets the scene for the child's memory to tell the story all over again.

I was delighted to meet this poem, after many decades' absence, while flicking through The Oxford Book of American Light Verse. Better still, it was accompanied by another old favourite by the same author, A Duel, in which a gingham dog and a calico cat have a furious fight and devour each other to the last shred. No, Field wasn't always a sweetly sentimental writer. Nor did he write only children's poems. He seems to have had fun producing what he called "paraphrases," using a sort of synthetic Middle English. There are other adult poems with a characteristic bitter-sweetness, such as A Fickle Woman (a poem which also uses sea-imagery, to somewhat different effect):

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod is famous, yes – but, of course, not as well-known as it once was. (Hands up, younger generation, if you never read it!) Children's poetry has evolved, and in some ways improved, since Victorian days. A major point in its favour, a contemporary children's poem rarely gives the impression that the author is, er, winking at the adult reader behind the child's back. We patronise children far less, and that's all to the good. If there's a flipside, perhaps it's that reassurance is lacking. A lullaby should lull, and the sense of a safe, solid adult world around the child is not to be despised. If such a poem can simultaneously stimulate the imagination, and establish a mental pattern of delicious sound and rhythm, it has proved its worth and deserves to be considered a children's classic.

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod (Dutch Lullaby)

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe –
Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going, and what do you wish?"
The old moon asked the three.
"We have come to fish for the herring-fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we!"
Said Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe,
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew.
The little stars were the herring-fish
That lived in the beautiful sea.
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish –
Never afeard are we!"
So cried the stars to the fishermen three,
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam –
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home:
'Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed
As if it could not be,
And some folk thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea –
But I shall name you the fishermen three:
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And Nod is a little head,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle-bed.
So shut your eyes while Mother sings
Of wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock in the misty sea,
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three: –
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

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