Life's a. B. C

Life's a. B. C by Ruth Collie (1928)

"Life's A. B. C." by Ruth Collie is a short inspirational poem built on a single extended metaphor: the orderly recitation of the alphabet learned in childhood versus the disorderly, bewildering "alphabet" of adult experience. The poem opens by recalling a schoolroom scene — children standing in a semi-circle, chanting "A. B. C." forward to "Z" in a "wailing minor key," each proving quickness of mind and tongue. Collie singles out two contrasting figures from this memory: a blue-eyed girl who reliably stumbles at "D" but is gently corrected by a patient, smiling teacher and goes on to finish "quite blithely," and the exceptionally bright pupils who could recite the sequence backward, from "Z" to "A," with ease. This nostalgic classroom image is then turned into a spiritual analogy. The speaker observes that in adulthood, "Life" has its own "A. B. C.," but this one refuses to be mastered the way the childhood alphabet was. Its "letters" — the events, duties, and trials of daily existence — will not "follow smoothly, each in proper turn" no matter how earnestly one tries to arrange them. Where the schoolroom alphabet was fixed and learnable through repetition and patience, life's sequence feels arbitrary, resistant, and confusing. The poem's turn comes in its final movement, where the speaker casts himself and, by implication, the reader as still those same children, only grown older and facing a harder lesson. Just as they once turned to their teacher for correction when they faltered, they now turn to "the Teacher" — capitalized to signal God or a divine guide — asking for help. The prayer is not for the trials to vanish but for understanding: that this larger, watchful Teacher will show them how to "read Life's puzzling A. B. C.," much as the classroom teacher patiently helped the faltering girl past her block at "D." Thematically, the poem functions as a meditation on faith amid confusion and hardship. It uses the universally familiar experience of learning one's letters as a gentle, accessible entry point into a much larger meditation on providence, patience, and guidance. The comparison works on several levels: the child's simple, fixable stumble stands in for the adult's more serious and less obviously fixable struggles with the "letters" of circumstance — grief, misfortune, disorder, or moral confusion that resist being put into any comprehensible order. The rhyme and singsong rhythm of the verse deliberately echo the chanted, rote quality of children reciting their letters, reinforcing the connection between the two "alphabets" being compared. The poem's structure moves in three stages: first, a warmly detailed recollection of the schoolroom ritual, rich with sensory and emotional specifics (the semicircle, the chanting cadence, the particular children who stood out — one for her weakness, others for their brilliance); second, a pivot marked by the word "But," which shifts from nostalgic memory to present difficulty, acknowledging that adult life does not yield to the same simple discipline; and third, a closing plea that reframes the entire poem as an act of prayer, returning to the schoolroom image one final time to cast God as the ultimate patient teacher capable of untangling what human effort cannot. Given the piece is part of a larger work (this being its opening section), it likely sets up "Life's A. B. C." as a governing conceit for further poems or reflections that follow — each perhaps taking up a specific "letter" or lesson of life in turn, in the way a primer might work through the alphabet lesson by lesson, but reinterpreted as moral or spiritual instruction. The opening section functions as a prologue or framing piece: it establishes the controlling metaphor (life as a difficult alphabet to be learned), introduces the emotional register (nostalgic, humble, devotional), and poses the central question the rest of the work presumably answers or explores — how one learns to make sense of a sequence of experience that does not organize itself neatly, and where one might turn for help in doing so. Collie's tone throughout is gentle, plainspoken, and consoling rather than despairing; even in naming life's "A. B. C." as "very hard to learn," the poem's final gesture is one of hope and trust rather than complaint, ending not on the difficulty itself but on the request for guidance and the implicit confidence that such guidance will be given, just as the teacher of childhood memory never let a pupil fail without kindly setting her right again.

By Ruth Collie · First published 1928 · Genre: Poetry, Philosophical, Inspirational · 235 words

First lines

Do you remember how we used to say the A. B. C. when we were very / young? We stood in semi-circular array, and proved a nimbleness of / brain and tongue! 'Twas "A. B. C. " right to the final "Z," we chanted / in a wailing minor key. One little blue-eyed girl with curly head / always stopped short each time she reached the "D. " But patient / teacher, smiling, put her right. Then on she'd go quite blithely to / the end. And some who were exceptionally bright, from "Z" to "A" the / backward trail could wend! But now, we often find Life goes awry. / Its "A. B. C. " is very hard to learn. Letters refuse, no matter how we / try, to follow smoothly, each in proper turn. 'Tis then, like / children of the long-ago, we ask the Teacher, watching patiently, if / He will help us so that we may know the way to read Life's puzzling / A. B. C.

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Life's a. B. C is listed on Textopian as a poem by Ruth Collie, dated 1928 CE.

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poetry · Australian literature · humorous verse · light verse · social commentary · everyday life · human nature · wit · satire · reflection · relationships · domestic life

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