James honeyman poem wh auden biography

James Honeyman was a silent child;
He didn't laugh or cry:
He looked at his mother
With curiosity.

Mother came up to the nursery,
Peeped through the open door,
Saw him striking matches,
Sitting on the nursery floor.

He went to the children's party,
The buns were full of cream,
Sat there dissolving sugar
In his tea-cup in a dream.

On his eighth birthday
Didn't care that the day was wet,
For by his bedside
Lay a ten-shilling chemistry set.

Teacher said: "James Honeyman
Is the cleverest boy we've had,
But he doesn't play with the others,
And that, I think, is sad."

While the other boys played football,
He worked in the laboratory,
Got a scholarship to college
And a first-class degree,

Kept awake with black coffee,
Took to wearing glasses,
Writing a thesis
On the toxic gases,

Went out into the country,
Went by a Green Line bus,
Walked upon the Chilterns,
Thought about phosphorus,

Said: "Lewisite in its day
Was pretty decent stuff,
But, under modern conditions,
It's not nearly str