The greatest anonymous poem

I heard about the poem “Tom o’ Bedlam” in an interview with Harold Bloom. He called it “the greatest anonymous lyric poem in English,” and he’s not wrong. I’ve reread it multiple times, and what stands out is its steadily increasing intensity, culminating in that stunning crescendo at the end. The poem is written in Early Modern English, so I asked Gemini to explain it to me line by line.

“Tom o’ Bedlam” is a haunting and powerful anonymous English folk ballad from the 17th century. It’s sung from the perspective of a “Tom o’ Bedlam,” a licensed beggar who was formerly an inmate of the Bethlehem Royal Hospital (Bedlam), a notorious mental asylum in London. These former patients were given a special license to beg for food and money, often carrying a distinctive horn to identify themselves. The poem is a mix of fantastical rants, social commentary, and a deep-seated sadness.

Here is the full poem, followed by a line-by-line interpretation:

From the hag and hungry goblin
That into rags would rend ye,
The spirit that stands by the naked man
In the Book of Moons defend ye,
That of your five sound senses
You never be forsaken,
Nor wander from yourselves with Tom
Abroad to beg your bacon.
While I do sing,
Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

Of thirty bare years have I
Twice twenty been enragèd,
And of forty been three times fifteen
In durance soundly cagèd.
On the lordly lofts of Bedlam,
With stubble soft and dainty,
Brave bracelets strong, sweet whips ding-dong,
With wholesome hunger plenty.
And now I sing,
Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

With a thought I took for Maudlin,
And a cruse of cockle pottage,
With a thing thus tall, sky bless you all,
I fell into this dotage.
I slept not since the Conquest,
Till then I never wakèd,
Till the roguish boy of love, where I lay,
Me found and stript me naked.
And now I sing,
Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

When I short have shorn my sow’s face
And swigged my horny barrel,
In an oaken inn I pound my skin
As a suit of gilt apparel;
The moon’s my constant mistress,
And the lowly owl my marrow;
The flaming drake and the night crow make
Me music to my sorrow.
While I do sing,
Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

The palsy plagues my pulses
When I prig your pigs or pullen,
Your culvers take, or matchless make
Your Chanticleer or Sullen.
When I want provant with Humphrey
I sup, and when benighted,
I repose in Paul’s with waking souls
Yet never am affrighted.
But I do sing,
Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

I know more than Apollo,
For oft, when he lies sleeping,
I see the stars at bloody wars
In the wounded welkin weeping;
The moon embrace her shepherd,
And the Queen of Love her warrior,
While the first doth horn the Star of Morn,
And the next the heavenly Farrier.
And I do sing,
Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

The Gipsy Snap and Pedro
Are none of Tom’s companions,
The punk I scorn, and the cutpurse sworn,
And the roaring boy’s bravadoes.
The meek, the white, the gentle,
Me handle, touch, and spare not,
But those that cross Tom Rynosseros
Do what the panther dare not.
With a host of furious fancies
Whereof I am commander,
With a burning spear and a horse of air,
To the wilderness I wander.
By a knight of ghosts and shadows
I summoned am to tourney.
Ten leagues beyond the wild world’s end,
Methinks it is no journey.
Yet will I sing,
Any food, any feeding,
Feeding, drink, or clothing;
Come dame or maid, be not afraid,
Poor Tom will injure nothing.

Line by Line Meaning by Gemini

Verse 1

• From the hag and hungry goblin / That into rags would rend ye,

  • Tom is blessing—or perhaps cursing—his listeners, hoping they’re spared from evil spirits akin to the ones that have “rent” his sanity.

• The spirit that stands by the naked man / In the Book of Moons defend ye,

  • Likely referencing an astrological or mystical text, Tom invokes a protective presence for his audience.

• That of your five sound senses / You never be forsaken, / Nor wander from yourselves with Tom / Abroad to beg your bacon.

  • Tom, who has lost his own senses, hopes his listeners never do—never to become mad beggars themselves.

• Chorus: While I do sing, / Any food, any feeding, / Feeding, drink, or clothing; / Come dame or maid, be not afraid, / Poor Tom will injure nothing.

  • A haunting refrain—a harmless plea for compassion.

Verse 2

• Of thirty bare years have I / Twice twenty been enragèd, / And of forty been three times fifteen / In durance soundly cagèd.

  • Confused timelines display the chaos and distortion of Tom’s mind.

• On the lordly lofts of Bedlam, / With stubble soft and dainty, / Brave bracelets strong, sweet whips ding-dong, / With wholesome hunger plenty.

  • Ironic depiction of Bedlam as regal yet cruel—a place of chains, lashes, and starvation.

• Chorus (repeats).

Verse 3

• With a thought I took for Maudlin, / And a cruse of cockle pottage,

  • A reference to grief-driven madness and a simple bowl of shellfish soup.

• With a thing thus tall, sky bless you all, / I fell into this dotage.

  • Suggests a passionate encounter triggered his descent into madness.

• I slept not since the Conquest… / Me found and stript me naked.

  • Expresses a timeless delirium and emotional nakedness caused by Cupid’s torment.

• Chorus

Verse 4

• When I short have shorn my sow’s face / And swigged my horny barrel,

  • A grotesque self-image and crude drinking vessel.

• In an oaken inn I pound my skin / As a suit of gilt apparel;

  • A delusion of grandeur in the midst of despair.

• The moon’s my constant mistress… / Me music to my sorrow.

  • Nature becomes Tom’s solace—his owl, the night crow, moonlight.

• Chorus

Verse 5

• The palsy plagues my pulses / When I prig your pigs or pullen,

  • A claim of trembling guilt or defiance in his petty thefts.

• Your culvers take… / Yet never am affrighted.

  • Refers to stealing doves or spoiling a rooster—he sleeps in sacred spaces like St. Paul’s, unafraid amid the souls there.

• Chorus

Verse 6

• I know more than Apollo… / In the wounded welkin weeping;

  • A famous cosmic vision—Tom, more insightful than the sun god, beholds stars at bloody wars across the bleeding sky.

• The moon embrace her shepherd…

  • A vision of love and celestial strife, weaving myth and astronomy.

• Chorus

Verse 7

• The Gipsy Snap and Pedro… / And the roaring boy’s bravadoes.

  • Tom rejects the company of rogues and criminals.

• The meek… / Do what the panther dare not.

  • He warns that crossing him—Tom Rynosseros, his mad identity—brings ferocity beyond a panther.

• With a host of furious fancies… / To the wilderness I wander.

  • He commands wild imaginings—riding spectral horses into the unknown.

• By a knight of ghosts… / Methinks it is no journey.

  • Summoned to a phantom joust, he is already beyond the world’s edge.

• Chorus