Louis MacNeice - The Sunlight on the Garden
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.
Warm, innit?
About Bob Dylan
4 days ago
7 comments:
We love it when you do your poetry recitals.
*chin in palms of hands and with a gazing dreamily at garfy*
I need a lectern to declaim off of.
Where's the wet bar at this recital?
Heathen.
Don't do poetry.
Scientists usually don't.
Einstein may have been a genius, but he wasn't noted for his sonnets.
well...there you go. I see. *nods thoughtfully*
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