The speaker begins with a playful confession: he loves hearing about piles of gold, legendary cities, silks that sweep dramatically through a tale, nightingales, exotic perfumes, and knights who carry themselves with heroic flair. It’s all delightful fantasy. But then he admits a curious habit of the mind—it keeps sneaking off toward homely, unpretentious subjects. With a wink, he notes that we’re probably supposed to shun those common things, yet many of us secretly prefer them: the cramped room of a poor man, a hollyhock, a bumblebee, a meadowlark’s song, a sparrow’s chirp. In the end, he distinguishes between the poet of towering inspiration and the one who sings of everyday life. While we admire the former, it’s the latter who earns our enduring affection. The mood feels like a warm, conversational nudge—gentle, humorous, and finally heartfelt, celebrating the beauty that lies in the ordinary world around us. It’s a poem that quietly insists the humble and familiar deserve our deepest songs.
Common Things — Summary
I like to hear of wealth and gold, And El Doradoes in their glory; I like for silks and satins bold To sweep and rustle through a story.
The nightingale is sweet of song; The rare exotic smells divinely; And knightly men who stride along, The role heroic carry finely.
But then, upon the other hand, Our minds have got a way of running To things that aren't quite so grand, Which, maybe, we are best in shunning.
For some of us still like to see The poor man in his dwelling narrow, The hollyhock, the bumblebee, The meadow lark, and chirping sparrow.
We like the man who soars and sings With high and lofty inspiration; But he who sings of common things Shall always share our admiration.