“But don 't worry, I 'm not the bread and the knife./You are still the bread and the knife,” he says, and keeping in mind his prior admittance of his lover’s faults, this is his apology, his statement that his lover is in fact important to him and surely holds a place in his heart. “But don’t worry” is a well-chosen phrase especially. Since he is shattering the traditional format of a love poem, he wants to make absolutely sure that he is not misconstrued. He ends the poem with “You will always be the bread and the knife,/not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.” Usual love poetry will often end with an ultimate statement of love, the largest and most important part of the poem. Collins turns this on its head with “somehow—the wine.” Even though he has said that his lover will always be the bread, the knife, and the crystal goblet, he is still amazed about the wine. Much like how new passion can be discovered in an old marriage, Collins is pleasantly surpised that his lover can, in fact, be the wine. The poem does not end with the proverbial fireworks show, but rather a spark: a hopeful, amused note of happiness. Love, after all, is about the nice surprises in life, like maybe wine, or fresh bread. Tenderness and appreciation in this line are just as noticeable and significant as in the poetry of Shakespeare or, more accurately, Jacques
“But don 't worry, I 'm not the bread and the knife./You are still the bread and the knife,” he says, and keeping in mind his prior admittance of his lover’s faults, this is his apology, his statement that his lover is in fact important to him and surely holds a place in his heart. “But don’t worry” is a well-chosen phrase especially. Since he is shattering the traditional format of a love poem, he wants to make absolutely sure that he is not misconstrued. He ends the poem with “You will always be the bread and the knife,/not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine.” Usual love poetry will often end with an ultimate statement of love, the largest and most important part of the poem. Collins turns this on its head with “somehow—the wine.” Even though he has said that his lover will always be the bread, the knife, and the crystal goblet, he is still amazed about the wine. Much like how new passion can be discovered in an old marriage, Collins is pleasantly surpised that his lover can, in fact, be the wine. The poem does not end with the proverbial fireworks show, but rather a spark: a hopeful, amused note of happiness. Love, after all, is about the nice surprises in life, like maybe wine, or fresh bread. Tenderness and appreciation in this line are just as noticeable and significant as in the poetry of Shakespeare or, more accurately, Jacques