Louis MacNeice Poems (19 Poems)
Bagpipe Music (Louis MacNeice Poems)
It’s no go the merrygoround, it’s no go the rickshaw, All we want is a limousine and a ticket for the peepshow. Their knickers are made of crepe-de-chine, their shoes are made of python, Their halls are lined with tiger rugs and their … Continue reading
Prayer Before Birth (Louis MacNeice Poems)
I am not yet born; O hear me.Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the stoat or theclub-footed ghoul come near me. I am not yet born, console me.I fear that the human race may with tall walls … Continue reading
Carrickfergus (Louis MacNeice Poems)
I was born in Belfast between the mountain and the gantriesTo the hooting of lost sirens and the clang of trams:Thence to Smoky Carrick in County AntrimWhere the bottle-neck harbour collects the mud which jams The little boats beneath the … Continue reading
June Thunder (Louis MacNeice Poems)
The Junes were free and full, driving through tinyRoads, the mudguards brushing the cowparsley,Through fields of mustard and under boldly embattledMays and chestnuts Or between beeches verdurous and voluptuousOr where broom and gorse beflagged the chalkland—All the flare and gusto … Continue reading
Autobiograph (Louis MacNeice Poems)
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 … Continue reading
The Suicide (Louis MacNeice Poems)
And this, ladies and gentlemen, whom I am not in factConducting, was his office all those minutes ago,This man you never heard of. These are the billsIn the intray, the ash in the ashtray, the grey memoranda stackedAgainst him, the … Continue reading
Autobiography (Louis Macneice Poems)
My father made the walls resound,He wore his collar the wrong way round. When I was five the black dreamscame;Nothing after was quite the same. When I woke they did not care;Nobody, nobody was there. In my childhood trees were … Continue reading
Star-Gazer (Louis MacNeice Poems)
Forty-two years ago (to me if to no one elseThe number is of some interest) it was a brilliant starry nightAnd the westward train was empty and had no corridorsSo darting from side to side I could catch the unwonted … Continue reading
Sunday Morning (Louis MacNeice Poems)
Down the road someone is practising scales,The notes like little fishes vanish with a wink of tails,Man’s heart expands to tinker with his carFor this is Sunday morning, Fate’s great bazaar;Regard these means as ends, concentrate on this Now, And … Continue reading
Wolves (Louis Macneice Poems)
I do not want to be reflective any moreEnvying and despising unreflective thingsFinding pathos in dogs and undeveloped handwritingAnd young girls doing their hair and all the castles of sandFlushed by the children (Louis Macneice)
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