THIRTY-NINE by Eugene Field: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
A poet wakes up on his thirty-ninth birthday, grumbling that this age feels awkward and pointless.
The poem
O hapless day! O wretched day! I hoped you'd pass me by-- Alas, the years have sneaked away And all is changed but I! Had I the power, I would remand You to a gloom condign, But here you've crept upon me and I--I am thirty-nine! Now, were I thirty-five, I could Assume a flippant guise; Or, were I forty years, I should Undoubtedly look wise; For forty years are said to bring Sedateness superfine; But thirty-nine don't mean a thing-- _À bas_ with thirty-nine! You healthy, hulking girls and boys,-- What makes you grow so fast? Oh, I'll survive your lusty noise-- I'm tough and bound to last! No, no--I'm old and withered too-- I feel my powers decline (Yet none believes this can be true Of one at thirty-nine). And you, dear girl with velvet eyes, I wonder what you mean Through all our keen anxieties By keeping sweet sixteen. With your dear love to warm my heart, Wretch were I to repine; I was but jesting at the start-- I'm glad I'm thirty-nine! So, little children, roar and race As blithely as you can, And, sweetheart, let your tender grace Exalt the Day and Man; For then these factors (I'll engage) All subtly shall combine To make both juvenile and sage The one who's thirty-nine! Yes, after all, I'm free to say I would much rather be Standing as I do stand to-day, 'Twixt devil and deep sea; For though my face be dark with care Or with a grimace shine, Each haply falls unto my share, For I am thirty-nine! 'Tis passing meet to make good cheer And lord it like a king, Since only once we catch the year That doesn't mean a thing. O happy day! O gracious day! I pledge thee in this wine-- Come, let us journey on our way A year, good Thirty-Nine! Sept. 2, 1889.
A poet wakes up on his thirty-ninth birthday, grumbling that this age feels awkward and pointless. However, he shifts his mindset by thinking about his children and his sweetheart, which lifts his spirits. By the end, he raises a glass and concludes that thirty-nine is actually quite wonderful — or at least deserving of a celebration, since it only comes around once.
Line-by-line
O hapless day! O wretched day! / I hoped you'd pass me by--
Now, were I thirty-five, I could / Assume a flippant guise;
You healthy, hulking girls and boys,-- / What makes you grow so fast?
And you, dear girl with velvet eyes, / I wonder what you mean
So, little children, roar and race / As blithely as you can,
Yes, after all, I'm free to say / I would much rather be
'Tis passing meet to make good cheer / And lord it like a king,
Tone & mood
Playfully self-deprecating and warm, Field expresses exaggerated despair much like someone at a birthday party—grinning even while complaining. The tone transitions from mock outrage to genuine tenderness in the middle stanzas, ultimately settling on cheerful acceptance. It never dives into darkness; instead, it feels like a man who relishes the ritual of pretending to be unhappy about aging.
Symbols & metaphors
- Thirty-nine — The age itself symbolizes that awkward phase — not young enough to be carefree and not old enough to earn automatic respect. By the end, Field makes it uniquely his own, a year that "only comes once."
- The dear girl with velvet eyes — The speaker's wife embodies love as a remedy for self-pity. Her "sweet sixteen" spirit — full of warmth and youthful energy — is what truly lifts his birthday blues and keeps him grounded in the moment.
- The children roaring and racing — The "healthy, hulking girls and boys" symbolize vitality and the visible passage of time. They grow quickly, which makes the speaker uneasy, yet their noise and energy also serve as a reminder that life remains vibrant and full around him.
- The wine / toast — The glass of wine in the final stanza represents a traditional symbol of celebration and acceptance. By raising it to the year, Field shows that he has decided to stop resisting his birthday and is ready to embrace it as a companion for the journey ahead.
- 'Twixt devil and deep sea — This idiom, usually referring to a hopeless dilemma, is reinterpreted here as the intriguing space between youth and old age. It represents the bittersweet yet manageable experience of middle life.
Historical context
Eugene Field penned this poem on September 2, 1889—his thirty-ninth birthday. By then, he was already a well-known figure across America, celebrated for his work as a newspaper columnist and poet, especially for his touching children's verses like "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod." Much of his career unfolded at the *Chicago Morning News* (which later became the *Chicago Daily News*), where his column "Sharps and Flats" blended humor, literary critique, and personal insights. This poem fits neatly into that journalistic, conversational style—it feels as much like a column entry as it does a lyric poem. As a devoted family man with several children, his affectionate mentions of his kids and wife make perfect sense. Tragically, he passed away just six years after writing this poem, at the age of forty-five, lending an unintended depth to the poem's jokes about aging when viewed in hindsight.
FAQ
It's a birthday poem that Field wrote for himself on his thirty-ninth birthday. He playfully expresses his shock at reaching this age, claims it feels too strange to hold any significance, and then convinces himself to celebrate by reflecting on his wife and children.
This is Field's wife, Julia Sutherland Comstock, whom he married in 1873. When he says "keeping sweet sixteen," he's complimenting her—he means she has remained youthful and loving, which helps make his own aging feel a bit less bleak.
*À bas* is French for "down with" — the sort of phrase you'd hear at a protest. Field uses it humorously, casting his own birthday as a political foe that needs to be toppled. It's all in good fun and adds a theatrical flair.
He's toying with the social significance of round numbers. Thirty-five feels like a milestone, forty certainly does — but thirty-nine is just an odd number in between, lacking any cultural significance. That's the punchline, as well as the reason for his mock outrage.
It's made up of seven stanzas, each with eight lines, using a mix of iambic tetrameter and trimeter. This ballad-like meter creates a lively, singable rhythm. The rhyme scheme follows an ABABCDCD pattern consistently, making it pleasing to listen to.
Both. There's a real anxiety about being in-between — not young, but not quite old either — and the tenderness he feels for his wife and children comes through sincerely. Yet Field uses humor to keep the poem from veering into self-pity. The joke carries the emotion.
It's an old idiom that refers to being stuck between two equally poor choices — similar to saying "between a rock and a hard place." Field uses it to illustrate the struggle between youth and old age, but he turns the meaning on its head: he concludes that the middle ground is actually where he prefers to be.
The poem begins with "O hapless day! O wretched day!" and ends with "O happy day! O gracious day!"—a nearly exact reversal. Field crafts the entire poem as a journey from feigned sorrow to true joy, and that reflective start and finish gives the arc a sense of wholeness and fulfillment.