Edward Thomas’s speaker looks back at a time when he was in love and believed completely in the love described by poets. He fed on both love and poetry, and they felt inseparable, equally true. Now that the feeling has faded, he’s left wondering. Maybe the poets were only offering a pretty illusion—a “lovely weed”—while what he actually lived was the real thing. He can’t settle the question alone and calls on Love itself to judge, to tell him whose version was genuine before he dies. The one certainty he holds onto is the change in himself: the fact that he once loved is proven by how different he feels now, empty of it. The mood is quiet, introspective, and a little sad, as a person sifts through memory trying to separate authentic feeling from beautiful words.
These Things That Poets Said — Summary
THESE things that poets said Of love seemed true to me When I loved and I fed On love and poetry equally.
But now I wish I knew If theirs were love indeed, Or if mine were the true And theirs some other lovely weed:
For certainly not thus, Then or thereafter, I Loved ever. Between us Decide, good Love, before I die.
Only, that once I loved By this one argument Is very plainly proved: I, loving not, am different.