A voice insists that a poet should sing right now, even after the poet protests that the world has grown old and his hair is gray. The speaker rejects that mood entirely. Everywhere there are signs of fresh life: birds in the lilacs, a snowdrop pushing up from wet earth, robins making a nest, a baby in a carriage, and sunlight breaking through clouds. The speaker feels that the present moment is too alive to waste on looking backward, so age and gloom are no excuse. The central feeling is playful insistence—almost teasing—but also sincere. A poet’s job is to notice this kind of renewal and turn it into song. The mood is bright, springlike, and a little impatient, as if the speaker is shaking someone awake to the beauty already happening outside.
Why Not? — Summary
Poet, sing me a song to-day !
But the world grows old and my hair is gray.
Ah no ! there are birds on the lilac bushes And a snow-drop out of the wet earth pushes. Two chattering robins are planning a marriage, And see ! there's a baby all pink in its carriage ! And the sun is wiping the clouds from his brow, And who can look back when it's always now? Oh, what is the use of a poet, say, If he will not sing me a song to-day?