The country
By Billy Collins
I wondered about you
when you told me never to leave
a box of wooden, strike-anywhere matches
lying around the house because the mice
might get into them and start a fire. A fire could start
But your face was absolutely straight
when you twisted the lid down on the round tin
where the matches, you said, are always stowed.
Who could sleep that night? Shift, Night time, the speaker is restless
Who could whisk away the thought
of the one unlikely mouse
padding along a cold water pipe
behind the floral wallpaper
gripping a single wooden match
between the needles of his teeth? Shift, Describing the mouse
Who could not see him rounding a corner,
the blue tip scratching against a rough-hewn beam, The match is lit now
the sudden flare, and the creature
for one bright, shining moment
suddenly thrust ahead of his time--
now a fire-starter, now a torchbearer The mouse is now more powerful!
in a forgotten ritual, little brown druid
illuminating some ancient night.
Who could fail to notice,
lit up in the blazing insulation,
the tiny looks of wonderment on the faces
of his fellow mice, onetime inhabitants
of what once was your house in the country?
I wondered about you
when you told me never to leave
a box of wooden, strike-anywhere matches
lying around the house because the mice
might get into them and start a fire. A fire could start
But your face was absolutely straight
when you twisted the lid down on the round tin
where the matches, you said, are always stowed.
Who could sleep that night? Shift, Night time, the speaker is restless
Who could whisk away the thought
of the one unlikely mouse
padding along a cold water pipe
behind the floral wallpaper
gripping a single wooden match
between the needles of his teeth? Shift, Describing the mouse
Who could not see him rounding a corner,
the blue tip scratching against a rough-hewn beam, The match is lit now
the sudden flare, and the creature
for one bright, shining moment
suddenly thrust ahead of his time--
now a fire-starter, now a torchbearer The mouse is now more powerful!
in a forgotten ritual, little brown druid
illuminating some ancient night.
Who could fail to notice,
lit up in the blazing insulation,
the tiny looks of wonderment on the faces
of his fellow mice, onetime inhabitants
of what once was your house in the country?
An analysis
To paraphrase this poem is about a father telling his son to leave the matches from reach from the mice. When he is about to fall asleep, he cannot shake the feeling that a mouse could start a fire. Now the point of view changes, and the author starts describing the mouse. As he thinks of the mouse rounding a corner, the match lights, and the mouse becomes superior to the rest of the population. This describes the themes of the poem that the most unlikely people can have power and even the smallest things can keep one awake at night. The tone of the poem is allusive, and whimsical.
The author's attitude is that mice can hold power even though it is unlikely.
The author's attitude is that mice can hold power even though it is unlikely.