‘My poetry was lousy, you said’ – such, according to this week’s poem, was Bob Dylan’s verdict on the poetic efforts of the young Joan Baez. That must have hurt, but one has to say that Bob was right, as far as Joan at that time was concerned. I remember one of Joan’s early albums, the first LP I ever bought, being covered with a kind of prose-poem that was cringe-making even by the standards of the sixties.

But then something happened: Joan’s work became sharper, tougher, culminating in this song which is surely one of the best songwriter compositions of recent years: plangent, humane, specific. It deals with Joan’s love affair with the young Dylan. It is hard to judge these things from the outside, but the usual narrative is that she recognised his talent and fostered it but he, as his fame grew, failed to reciprocate and became reluctant to share a stage with her. Here we see her contemplating a past that is now distant yet still tinged with a kind of autumnal rue.

‘bluer than robin’s eggs’… hang on, I hear you object, a robin’s egg is not blue at all. Joan, however, being American, is thinking of the American robin, a bird not closely related to our European robin, being a member of the thrush family, and the eggs of the American robin are indeed an intense shade of blue.

’the girl on the half-shell’… alluding to the famous painting by Botticelli, showing the goddess Venus, who was born fully grown of sea-foam, arriving at the shore after her birth, a bit short of clothes.

Diamonds And Rust

Well, I’ll be damned
Here comes your ghost again
But that’s not unusual
It’s just that the moon is full
And you happened to call

And here I sit
Hand on the telephone
Hearing a voice I’d known
A couple of light years ago
Heading straight for a fall

As I remember, your eyes
Were bluer than robin’s eggs
My poetry was lousy, you said
Where are you calling from?
A booth in the Midwest

Ten years ago I bought you some cufflinks
You brought me something
We both know what memories can bring
They bring diamonds and rust

Well you burst on the scene
Already a legend
The unwashed phenomenon
The original vagabond
You strayed into my arms

And there you stayed
Temporarily lost at sea
The Madonna was yours for free
Yes the girl on the half-shell
To keep you unharmed

Now I see you standing with brown leaves
Falling all around and snow in your hair
Now you’re smiling out the window
Of that crummy hotel over Washington Square

Our breath comes out white clouds
Mingles and hangs in the air
Speaking strictly for me
We both could have died then and there

Now you’re telling me, you’re not nostalgic
Then give me another word for it
You were so good with words
And at keeping things vague

‘Cause I need some of that vagueness now
It’s all come back too clearly
Yes, I loved you dearly
And if you’re offering me diamonds and rust
I’ve already paid

Joan Baez