Thursday, 26 January 2006
Autobiography
In my childhood trees were green
And there was plenty to be seen.
Come back early or never come.
My father made the walls resound,
He wore his collar the wrong way round.
Come back early or never come.
My mother wore a yellow dress;
Gentle, gently, gentleness.
Come back early or never come.
When I was five the black dreams came;
Nothing after was quite the same.
Come back early or never come.
The dark was talking to the dead;
The lamp was dark beside my bed.
Come back early or never come.
When I woke they did not care;
Nobody, nobody was there.
Come back early or never come.
When my silent terror cried,
Nobody, nobody replied.
Come back early or never come.
I got up; the chilly sun
Saw me walk away alone.
Come back early or never come.
Louis Macneice
16:08 Permalink | Comments (3) | Email this
Comments
This poem killed me.
Do you know this one by MacNeice?
"When We Were Children"
When we were children words were coloured
(harlot and murder were dark purple)
And language was a prism, the light
A conjured inlay on the grass,
Whose rays to-day are concentrated
And language grown a burning-glass.
When we were children Spring was easy,
Dousing our heads in suds of hawthorn
And scrambling the laburnum tree -
A breakfast for thr gluttonous eye;
Whose winds and sweets have now forsaken
Lungs that are black, tongues that are dry.
Now we are older and our talents
Accredited to time and meaning,
To handsel joy requires a new
Shuffle of cards behind the brain
Where Meaning Shall remarry colour
And flowers be timeless once again.
Posted by: AnneC | Wednesday, 03 May 2006
Very beautiful - I've never read that one before. Very evocative about the coloured words, and beautifully tied up at the end "where meaning shall remarry colour".
What is "handsel joy" I wonder.
Ok, I just looked it up. Handsel is: A sale, gift, or delivery into the hand of another; especially, a sale, gift, delivery, or using which is the first of a series, and regarded as on omen for the rest; a first installment; an earnest; as the first money received for the sale of goods in the morning, the first money taken at a shop newly opened, the first present sent to a young woman on her wedding day, etc.
I'm sure there's a couple of other McNeice's on this blog. Here's another of my favourites:
The Sunlight on the Garden
Louis McNeice
The sunlight on the garden
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the minute
Within its nets of gold,
When all is told
We cannot beg for pardon.
Our freedom as free lances
Advances towards its end;
The earth compels, upon it
Sonnets and birds descend;
And soon, my friend,
We shall have no time for dances.
The sky was good for flying
Defying the church bells
And every evil iron
Siren and what it tells:
The earth compels,
We are dying, Egypt, dying
And not expecting pardon,
Hardened in heart anew,
But glad to have sat under
Thunder and rain with you,
And grateful too
For sunlight on the garden.
Posted by: waylaid | Thursday, 04 May 2006
Yes, I love that one. I read it a long time ago - how nice to have these poems brought back. I particularly remember " We are dying, Egypt, dying". So unexpected in the context of the rest of the poem, but so absolutely, perfectly, evocative.
And thanks for looking up handsel! I never did know what it meant and I think I just pretended in my head it was "handle"
Posted by: AnneC | Thursday, 04 May 2006
Post a comment