Joyce Kilmer wrote this for his wife Aline, and it reads like a hushed, intimate reassurance. It begins with a puzzled question: why should someone with ‘radiant eyes’ and ‘feet shod in light’ ever have to walk through sombre, weary days? The answer rejects despair. Divine light can pierce earthly gloom, and tears, rather than draining joy, actually nourish a deep, celestial laughter. Then comes the poem’s unforgettable closing: any hardship cast against her peaceful beauty is as useless as winds blowing against a star. The star doesn’t tremble; it simply shines. The structure—question, answer, metaphor—feels simple, yet it creates an atmosphere of quiet awe and tender certainty. Kilmer doesn’t try to explain suffering away; he simply insists that this inner radiance is untouchable, fixed beyond reach of any storm. There is no trace of anger or pity in the speaker’s voice—only a calm, star-like certainty.
As Winds That Blow Against A Star — Summary
(For Aline)
Now by what whim of wanton chance Do radiant eyes know sombre days? And feet that shod in light should dance Walk weary and laborious ways? But rays from Heaven, white and whole, May penetrate the gloom of earth; And tears but nourish, in your soul, The glory of celestial mirth. The darts of toil and sorrow, sent Against your peaceful beauty, are As foolish and as impotent As winds that blow against a star.