I often plan what I shall say To those I hope to know some day, And feel that we are sure to find A correspondency of mind, But when we meet, it is my grief To be encompassed by a sheaf Of sudden shy formality That quite obscures the real me.
Most of us have done what the speaker does here: imagined a conversation in advance, polished it, and felt sure it would go well. She pictures meeting people she hopes to know someday and is confident they'll discover "a correspondency of mind," a natural meeting of thoughts. But the real moment never matches the rehearsal. Face to face, she's wrapped in "a sheaf / Of sudden shy formality," a stiff layer that arrives uninvited and hides "the real me."
The title, "Ironical," points to the gap at the heart of the poem. The person who is warm, witty and ready to connect exists in the speaker's head, while the person others actually meet seems cold or distant. Her tone is gently rueful rather than bitter, with a slightly old-fashioned politeness ("it is my grief"). The mood is wistful and quietly funny, and anyone who has gone tongue-tied around new people will recognize it.