Not waving but drowning

Nobody heard him, the dead man
But still he lay moaning
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave out
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

Stevie Smith

Life's a bitch and then you die: it's one of the Four Noble Truths, isn't it.
Or is it all four wrapped into one? Dunno, guv. Even if she'd never written
anything else (and i don't really know anything else she wrote) we would
love her for this forlorn little masterpiece.

I've been checking the internet literature on this poem, and it all seems to
me to be quite remarkably obtuse. Surely it's obvious that this is a poem
about a suicidally depressive underachiever putting on a brave face....?
Sometimes I wonder if this poem is a relative of Heine's Wehmut.... and
there is the wonderful Schumann setting ...

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