Saturday, 15 January 2011

Can't stop listening to this.

At the moment I'm learning part iv of Louis MacNeice's Autumn Journal. This is what I've got up to:

September has come, and I wake
 And I think with joy how whatever, now or in future,
   the system
Nothing whatever can take
  The people away, there will always be people
For friends or for lovers though perhaps
  The conditions of love will be changed and its vices
And affection not lapse
   To narrow possessiveness, jealousy founded on vanity.
September has come, it is hers
  Whose vitality leaps in the autumn,
Whose nature prefers
  Trees without leaves and a fire in the fire-place;
So I give her this month and the next
   Though the whole of my year should be hers who has
      rendered already
So many of its days intolerable or perplexed
   But so many more so happy;
Who has left a scent on my life and left my walls
   Dancing over and over with her shadow,
Whose hair is twined in all my waterfalls
   And all of London littered with remembered kisses.
So I am glad
  That life contains her with her moods and moments
More shifting and more transient than I had
  Yet thought of as being integral to beauty; ...

I first came across this poem last term in a seminar and immediately asked for the whole collection for Christmas. It hasn't left my bag since I got it for a new year's present.

This is a horribly soppy post, isn't it?

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